


Stars Are Blind

by clusband



Category: Hiveswap
Genre: Alcohol, Flushed Romance | Matesprits, Other, Smoking, dating sim
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-10
Updated: 2020-09-10
Packaged: 2021-03-06 19:54:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 27,870
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26214418
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/clusband/pseuds/clusband
Summary: Four ways you and Marvus found yourselves together, and nine ways it ended.(In other words: Marvus dating sim.)
Relationships: Marvus Xoloto/MSPA Reader, Marvus Xoloto/Reader
Comments: 22
Kudos: 104





	Stars Are Blind

**Author's Note:**

> ****Please show creator's style!! This will not work correctly without it!****  
> 
> 
> Thank you very much to my betas, @skeletorific, @compositecreature, and @heuristicallyinclined on tumblr. This project would not be what it is without your help and guidance!
> 
> Now with endcard art! Check it out: https://disegnidipizzo.tumblr.com/post/644762033027448832/fountain-ending-fancard-for-grandmaster-xoloto-s

Any day now, you'd love for something to happen.

Some petty gossip. An explosion in the mountains surrounding your hive. You'd take a cold-blooded culling at this point; chances are one of your friends would be behind it anyway.

As it is, you sit with your palm husk face down on your sternum. There's a weight on your chest, and it's not the roughly 150 grams of biomaterial that make up your palmhusk.

Pace around your hive.

Life is starting to feel like the frustrating part of a point-and-click adventure game. You already admired all your gifts from your friends. You made coffee and you used both of your mugs. You dressed and undressed and dressed again. You combined some glitter with a friendship bracelet and felt guilty about it.

It's not like you're about to start tracing the fucking wood grain. Maybe it's time to be proactive about your bad mood.

Absolutely not. Let the adventure come to me.

Check your chittr feed, just in case something's happened in the past 5 minutes.

You need to clear your head. A walk is just the thing.

Get some Vitamin D.

And why not? The moons are bright, the breeze is cool, and the plant life around your hive is acting far less hostile than usual. Sometimes the best plans are the simplest.

And, if you're honest with yourself, you're out of practice making plans for yourself instead of for friendship.

Maybe if you're lucky, you'll run into Karako again.

Check your palmhusk.

Okay, so maybe old habits die hard. But what if one of your friends needs you? What if somebody is desperately trying to make plans, and you accidentally snub them?

As it turns out, that's exactly what's happening. Opening your phone, you count two missed calls and three texts from Ardata.

Your gut instinct is so on point, it's unbelievable.

Ardata: III'm goiiing shoppiiing today. Your iiimmeasurable friendshiiip wiiill be very useful iiin helpiiing me carry my bags.

Ardata: Hmm? Don't tell me you've got something better to do.

The 2 missed phone calls were placed between these texts.

Ardata: III don't fiiind the hard to get act cute. Respond iiimmediiiately or miiiss your chance.

Oh, boy, it's your first friend! You've learned so much since you met her!

...Like boundaries, for one.

MSPAR: I'm not really interested in carrying your bags.

MSPAR: But we can meet up for coffee afterward!

Ardata: My apologiiies that you cannot read.

Ardata: III wiiill be shoppiiing iiin the downtown square. Nothiiing more.

MSPAR: Okay, and I will be drinking coffee in the downtown cafe.

MSPAR: And nothing more.

Ardata doesn't text you back. That's okay! It's fine that your friends have different interests than you.

And you're totally down for going to this cafe alone. Honestly? It's going to be a relief to not have to deal with someone else's hysterics, fate defying spectacles, abandonment for a sexier companion, etc. Just existing, alone, in the space where fanfic tropes go to flourish and die sounds pleasant. Uncomplicated. A little foreboding, but also a little hopelessly romantic.

It suits you.

Arrive.

The cafe is bustling; looking around, you can see trolls in groups of two and three gossiping and generally looking contentious occupying most of the tablespace.

God, did you just invite Ardata on a hate date? That was certainly not your intention. How are you supposed to know if today is pitch/ashen affirmation day or if this is par for the course of troll friendships?

You notice Nufren at one of the tables against the back wall, grouped with a few other teals and a cerulean.

She is resolutely looking away from you, her hand shielding her eyes for good measure. You do the same, for courtesy's sake. _We ignorin._

Now's a good time to sit with your coffee and reflect on your failures. The best thing about failure is learning from it, and, by golly, you're learning right now. One: don't get so protective and possessive over your friends that you're blind to a new one. Though, technically, that failure was Lynera's and not yours. So you're back at square one, having learned nothing.

Distantly, you hear the bells of the door opening, followed by the rustling of tissue paper and bags, etc. You smirk to yourself; works every time. Want to bring your friend to you? Sow the fanfic tropes and reap the sweet, sweet reward of friendship.

You glance over to Ardata, her lackey du jour struggling not to drop her tower of miscellaneous items.

This is hardly a meet-cute.

Pull her chaiiir up for her. Poliiitely.

Against your own volition, you stand and pull out a chair for Ardata. She sits, floating down to her chair, slow like snowfall. You push her back in and return to your seat.

She snaps her fingers, and the troll previously under her command slackens, placing her things on a chair before stumbling out the door.

She places her chin over her laced fingers.

Ardata: Hello.

Then she lets out a low, wicked snicker.

Enjoy your date with the red room host.

Immediately, you're kicking yourself for thinking that. Ardata has expressed her dislike for her hobbies- the hobbies she feels forced into- on multiple occasions.

Or, well, one occasion. And she doesn't seem to have changed. But change starts with admitting you have a problem! So there's that first step right there.

While you're busy with your guilty inner monologue, Ardata continues talking, a sneer on her face.

Ardata: What a warm welcome to the piiitch parade.

Ardata: Which drone diiied and told these plebs to snog here?

Look Around.

Ardata's sneer is so devastating that you would have been inclined to look away for any reason at all.

You don't notice anyone snogging, or even kissing chastely, though.

Ardata: IIIt was a joke.

Ardata: You can laugh now.

You let out a single "ha." She glances expectantly. You let out one more. She smiles a wide, wicked smile.

What the hell did you get yourself into?

Get Ardata a coffee.

This time, you act on your own accord. Sometimes, you need a little more preparation to deal with certain friendships.

Thankfully, you know exactly how Ardata likes her coffee. You also know that she's going to complain about it either way, so you're not too stressed about getting it perfect.

When you rejoin her, Ardata is scowling again.

Ardata: Iiif III wanted to siiit iiin squalor and siiip on subpar beverages, III would have joiiined you at your hiiive.

She sips at her coffee anyway. Each sip eases tension from her body. It's so imperceptible at first that you think your hope is becoming mania. But soon enough, she's abandoned her ramrod posture in favor of leaning back in her chair.

Ardata: So, are you refusiiing to shop wiiith me because you have no money, or iiis iiit because you have no taste?

She smirks at you over her cup. Ugh, she can be so nasty sometimes. You ignore her in favor of her phone.

She scoffs. Is it rude to train your friend like a dog? She’ll be calling you Pavlov in no time at this rate. Either way, you refuse to reward bad behavior.

Ardata: What...

She scowls as if this is difficult for her.

Ardata: What are you _(ugh)_ up to today?

You weren't up to anything, but you can't admit that. You blurt out the first thing that comes to mind.

MSPAR: I was thinking about making my own grubtube channel.

God, you're about to be so tangled up in this stupid lie. Headphones everywhere want what you now have.

Ardata: Really.

She says this in the flat tone reserved for the disbelieving.

MSPAR: Yes.

Stalemate. You can feel her peering into your mind, which you've reminded her again and again that you don't like.

You're getting the sinking feeling that you should have just stayed home.

Close your eyes.

Everything you know about psychics comes from time spent watching bad TV back on earth. But surely their knowledge is based on something, right? Cutting eye contact is your ace in the hole here.

With your eyes squeezed shut, you feel Ardata's nasty snicker reverberate through the core of your being.

Ardata: Oh my.

Ardata: Biiig secrets from my liiittle friiiend, hm?

You crack open an eye. She's back on her noblewoman's laugh bullshit, with the hand to the chin and everything.

Ardata: How about III do you a liiittle favor, for everything you've done for me.

Ardata: You siiimply macetiiime me wiiith your viiideos, and III upload them for you.

Wow, is that tension you notice in your friend's voice? There's no way she's suddenly this magnanimous.

Ardata: An aliiien on the iiinternet miiight attract some undue attentiiion, wouldn't you agree?

Ah, that's what she's after: a little bit of your out of this world clout. Ardata continues to dig her verbal hole.

Ardata: And we can't have you comiiing to harm. III have the best VPN network money can buy.

You know another cerulean who made a better VPN network and help you set it up for free.

You're starting to feel a little guilty, letting your friend embarrass herself like this.

MSPAR: I don't know how to set up macetime.

Sit back for the mocking.

Quite frankly, you're sick of her abuse. Do you really need to put up with her anymore? You have a cast of 36 other friends, each and everyone much more pleasant than her. And that's saying something.

You think back to the time she cried in her kitchen. There are days where you look back at that, sympathy burning bright and painful in your stomach. But you had to be broken and battered just to see it. You're not sure it's worth it.

Ardata: Oh, and III suppose you want my help?

Ardata: III do not fiiind the clueless aliiien biiit cute.

Yeah, you get it, she doesn't find you cute.

Aren't you tired of being nice? Don't you just wanna go apeshit?

Maybe you don't need her help.

You start up the indignition. You're about to vroom vroom straight to your boundaries. Hazards are on and blinking, baby.

You start to form a rejection, but the words come out all wrong.

MSPAR: I'm sorry Ardata. Of course you're right. I would, however, love to go shopping with you and bask in your wonderous beauty.

Ardata huffs a small laugh.

Ardata: Well, only siiince you were so poliii-

With all of the mental strength you possess, you get up and kick over her tower of material goods. It's a huge mess and an even bigger spectacle. It's enough to distract her. Articles of cerulean and black fabric go flying. A pair of boots clatters to the floor as if they weighed a ton. Papers are torn and suspended in the air as you storm out. Exit: stage left.

BAD EN-

No, absolutely not! Setting and sticking to your boundaries is a good thing, always a good thing.

NEUTRAL END

MSPAR: I don't want your help.

MSPAR: I am barely tolerating your company!

MSPAR: But if you want to stick around and watch me struggle, this is the best you're getting today.

You jut your chin out and cross your arms. That should really drive the point home.

You expect her to shovel more abuse your way, and quite frankly, you are one slutty, slutty strutpod out the door already.

But for a moment, your friend looks forlorn. Ardata, who faces the world with her head held high and her three eyes on yours, looks at her hands in her lap.

You understand this: of everyone Ardata knows, only you (and possibly Lanque, who's a bad time and a half himself) deal with her voluntarily. And the fact that the phrasing is "deal with" and not "hang out with" is not lost on her.

Kindly, you grimace at her. You tried to smile, but, frankly, you hate lying to your friends.

MSPAR: Want to show me how it's done?

MSPAR: This alien technology is lost on me.

Which isn't technically true- how hard can it be to install a single app?- but the alien alphabet it's written does occasionally throw you for a loop.

Ardata looks up, cycling through her face library until she settles on one of her "nasty but not overtly creul" smiles.

Ardata: There's no fun liiike bloodloss in a publiiic place.

This time, her smile is genuine, though mischievous.

Practice blood magic, you guess.

You've always known that computer science was secretly computer magic. Is it any coincidence that Mallek is so cold all the time, and that he's lost some weight? Nobody is immune to anemia.

Ardata's fingers across the keys are fast and furious. You figure she always has the first word on her live streams.

The macetime app takes ages to download on this public wifi. In the meantime, Ardata locks your phone and fixes her hair in the reflection of the screen.

You are, by all accounts, floating face down in the River Styx. Which is what you've been doing throughout your time on Alternia if your Achille's ass is anything to judge by.

Set up macetime.

You do just that, and it's as exciting as setting up any app is.

In your humble, alien opinion, they could have used a better pun.

Ardata: Now for the blood caste access check.

She glances at you, with a look that says "I know a secret about you" and also "you are so beneath me it's unbelievable."

Ardata: You can just use miiine. Iiit's easiiier that way.

Ardata: The mutant-sniiiffer drones can be such a hassle.

Her face twists as she attempts a winning smile. Mostly she looks like she just stubbed her toe.

The palmhusk makes a whirring sound before something clicks. Ardata twitches slightly, and when she hands your palmhusk back to you, a small bead of cerulean bubbles up from the skin of her palm.

The two of you work on importing contacts from your chittr friends list. Ardata is simultaneously haughty and helpful; it's a strange and foreboding feeling, to have _her_ helping _you_ for once. You guess she dislikes the idea of being usurped that much.

Finally, the app is installed. Ardata is giving you an indulgent, expectant look.

Ardata: You wiiill thank me for my help.

MSPAR: Thank you for your help.

She smiles. You smile.

You have no idea what to do.

Ardata's idea of fun is murder and throwing parties. You are in the mood for neither of those.

You'd like to chat and be pleasant company. Ardata is in the mood for neither of those.

You're agonizing in your chair. You're starting to spiral in horror; get Junji Ito on the line.

Is it possible this one, single friendship was doomed from the start? Have you met failure in the form of a small woman in a cape with a penchant for dismemberment? Is that, perhaps, why you allowed Ardata to even come near you after the pain she put you through? Some sense of friendly debt?

You look at her. Her elbow is on the table, hand relaxed, splayed and bent like a well-manicured lily-of-the-valley. Her head is resting on her knuckles as she peruses her phone. Her eyes are downcast. It strikes you how very, very unhappy she looks.

Failure looks like this.

Face your fear and fail some more.

You think of some traits Ardata has, and some friends who might complement those traits the best. Bloodthirsty: you doubt she and Chahut would get along, and Ardata doesn't strike you as someone good with children, so that's Amisia out. Likes to party: you know she and Lanque get along, but you aren't in the mood to deal with his games right now. Dramatic: briefly, you're entertained by the idea of her and Azdaja teaming up for duel strifers, but... no way.

Emotionally volatile... Now there's something. Lynera. God, you can't believe you didn't make the connection earlier.

You glance at Ardata again.

Okay, so a face-to-face meeting might be a little too bloody for you to handle. And god forbid Lynera thinks you're waxing ashen for her; the last thing she needs is a new quadrant fixation to worry about.

It comes to you slowly.

Who knows pain better than the poets?

You know for a fact that Lynera and Lanque (and, if you're remembering your friends' quirks right, Zebede) frequent a popular text-based forum for budding writers. The trolls there are so supportive that you thought it was occupied by bots. Turns out the moderators only allow criticism if it's passive-aggressive. Their words: work out the creative muscles for once.

Gentle criticism. Self-expression. Anonymity. Ardata is never going to go for it the first try, but maybe you can plant the seed.

You relay some information about the website to Ardata in a way that might catch her interest. You tell her about your friend's participation in the forums and make up a story about your own participation to sweeten the pot.

As expected, Ardata is nothing but nasty about it.

Ardata: You want me to...

She brings a dainty hand to her mouth as if to suppress a laugh.

Ardata: What, exactly? Wriiite about how hard and sad my _sordiiid liiife_ iiis?

Ardata: Fiiind forgiiiveness iiin the diiigiiital arms of strangers?

Judging by her tone, that's exactly what Ardata wants.

Her face falls. She's glaring at you again.

Ardata: Iiif you were siiick of my company, you could have just saiiid so.

As a goodbye, it does sting. But before Ardata leaves, she checks her phone.

You'd recognize the Poe-it logo anywhere.

Sag back in your chair.

It's not like she was wrong. You are so suddenly exhausted, it's not even funny.

Hell, you're so exhausted you can't come up with something more clever than "it's not even funny." Who even are you? You may have left your boredom behind, but your stress is rapidly catching up with you.

Well, you have macetime now.

You still think that's a stupid pun, for the record.

Call Marvus.

There's a small part of you that's like, what, that's it? It's not like you have to go through a series of bizarre events to draw him to you, right? Sometimes you can just call a jugg, end of story.

Don't think too hard about that.

Marvus picks up after only four rings.

Marvus: wassup bud :o)

God, this is exactly what you needed to see. Marvus is caught in the eye of a flamboyant storm of fabrics. Trolls push and pull and prod him, but he takes in in stride with the same easy smile he gives you. There's a wall of pink and purple fabric so extensive behind him that for a moment, you wonder if he's in front of a green screen.

Marvus: damn

Marvus: came in w da cerulean hoodie

Marvus: now tha cerulean caste claim

Marvus: ur moving up in the world babe

MSPAR: Maybe.

MSPAR: My eye's on purple, though.

Marvus: wordddd

Marvus: mmfcl babe !

You’re unfamiliar with the acronym, but yeah, sure. Word.

For a few minutes, you get lost in Marvus's world. Trolls take measurements, wrap him in fabric, ask him questions, and sew him into clothes. And all the while, Marvus stands there, macetiming you, as if nothing is happening to him at all.

It's exactly what you need. In all honesty, it's nice to see someone gracefully going physically through what you're enduring emotionally.

Sit back and listen.

Marvus: ngl ya boy is wicked fxxking bored

Marvus: wya ?

MSPAR: Just got through an interview with a vampire.

Marvus twists his smile, confused.

MSPAR: Nevermind, human joke.

MSPAR: I don't know how you're bored.

MSPAR: You look pretty busy!

Marvus: shieet mang im just standing here

Marvus: my crews watz busy lol

As if to prove his point, a small, blue-blooded troll holds his arm out and sews him into a sleeve.

He chats for a while. Mostly it's a lot of nothing on his part, which is the perfect soundtrack for spacing the fuck out and decompressing to.

Maybe Alternia got it right. Marvus has a voice that likes to be heard.

Daydream.

You wonder what Marvus is actually doing today. Obviously, he's at the tailor's, but what about after?

Maybe you have a little Marvus in your future after all. And all you had to do was reach out and take him.

Bliss the fuck out some more.

Come back to the present.

Marvus's voice zones in and out as you stare into the vaguely chocolate flavored dregs of your drink. You kind of wish you’d sprung a little extra for the strawberry, just so you could zone out to a more pleasant color palette.

Marvus: seems to me like my fans want to see some bloodshed these dayzzz

Marvus: but mang thiz shizz is qua lit TY

Marvus: getting sick and fxxking tired of ruining a good thang

Marvus scowls on screen as he plucks at his suit. Gingko leaf and umbrellas pattern his suit jacket, though his shirt is a plain, sheer purple. You realize that while you were spacing out he's moved from his tailor's and into his limo. His hair is frizzy and, quite frankly, a mess; maybe he's going to get that done next. He's certainly fucking around in what looks like a planner. Who took Marvus Xoloto for the organized, planning type?

Marvus: dats why i wear my tails and epaulettes, ya dig ?

Marvus: that shizz is iconic enough dat nobody notices if itz a lil off

MSPAR: You're saying you're only an icon out of, what? Convenience?

Marvus: tch, maaan

Marvus: do you like going to tha tailor or sumn ?

Marvus: i just want some time thatz my fxxking own, heard that ?

Ardata's laugh echos in your empty head. You think back to all the times you get into some shenanigans just to satisfy your friend quota.

MSPAR: I did hear that. I feel it, too.

Marvus glances back at the screen.

His smile is so small and genuine that it hurts.

Go back outside.

There's something about Marvus that makes you want to keep him all to yourself. Also, it would really suck to be subjected to a hoard of murderous fans right when you're starting to feel okay.

MSPAR: Where are you going?

Marvus: idk lol

Marvus: back to the studio ig

MSPAR: The grind never stops.

Marvus: dan i heard dat lol

MSPAR: Think you can show me around?

Marvus: hell yeah babe ill give u the vip tour

Marvus relaxes back in his chair, and you let your mind wander.

Let your legs wander, too.

You find yourself a bench in an alley. Situated between cafes, you have both wifi and privacy. Clouds pass over the moons, but fairly lights twinkle behind you with their artificial light and for now, your world is shaded in pastels.

It's almost like your world is fraying at the edges, unreal where reality doesn't matter much. This always happens when you show initiative. It's relaxing, knowing that you can press the weight of your will against all of Alternia and Alternia never presses back in any way that matters.

Marvus is chattering on in front of you; he's gone full business on you, reminding you to watch his episode of hivez that's dropping next week. You don’t mind the sales pitch; so far, you've been more of his sponge than his soundboard.

Give Marvus your full attention.

Marvus steps out of his car to the cacophony of hundreds of busy trolls, hard at work. He noticeably straightens, face hardening to his lazy smile; it hits you that you can't decide if he's more in his element here, or less.

His stride is purposeful, graceful, as he approaches the front door.

Marvus: welcome to Xoloto Studio Towers !

Pride is thick in his voice; you can practically hear the capital letters that he rarely graces any of his words with. He's really a master; the slow pan of his palmhusk camera up the side of the building, from his perspective, really highlights how... Hold on, you're pulling up a thesaurus. Huge. Massive. Colossal. _Imposing_ this building is. Light glints off the bright pink glass, offset by the matte paint of Marvus's name spraypainted on the side, graffiti style. On the roof, you notice the suggestion of torches and lights and what appears to be a general, nonstop party.

Sweet troll Jesus. How long has Marvus been a musician? You knew he was big, but this suggests a grandeur that his personality never did.

Marvus: still getting used 2 calling thiz my own, lol

He pats the glass fondly. A troll is swift to wipe his handprint away.

MSPAR: Damn.

MSPAR: Can I say that again? Because _damn._

The best feeling in the world is knowing you're responsible for Marvus's wide, goofy smile.

Start up the interview.

It's not like you'll get to see Marvus like this again; sometimes, you feel a little shy asking Marvus about his career. Heavens forbid he thinks you're after his status.

MSPAR: How long have you been a musician?

Marvus: wellll i won slam or get culled about two & a half sweepz ago

Marvus: made some wicked fxxking waves in the music community

MSPAR: I was wondering about that!

MSPAR: Isn't Slam or Get Culled reality TV?

Marvus: ya :o)

MSPAR: So it's scripted.

Marvus: ya :o)

A pause. You give him an expectant look, and as expected, he takes his cue.

Marvus: the show wuz scripted, but u cant fake talent, feel me ?

Marvus: i was a choir boy at my local church xo)

Marvus: big boss a tha show got wind of me and hauled me in as their big $$$pectacle

MSPAR: Bet you loved that.

Marvus: haha yeah

Marvus: i mean how else is a clown 2 get his ca-rear up n off the mfin ground

MSPAR: I wouldn't know.

MSPAR: It's a big circus. Must be a lot of balloons.

Marvus laughs at this.

Marvus: dat wut you call airheads ?

Marvus: cuz its tru

Marvus: some of these mfs are real ding dongs

Marvus finally stops to show you the lobby.

Pick up your jaw from the floor.

You have never seen pictures of younger Marvus; he's just as delightfully goofy and awkward as you'd hoped.

Marvus: check ittt

Marvus: pre-fame me

He zooms in on a few select pictures. Marvus at roughly 15, gangly and hunched over. His facepaint is slightly different; his diamonds are slightly tilted towards the center, making him look unapproachable and predatory. In this picture, he's wearing a zebra print fur coat over yellow, red, and blue striped bell-bottoms. At roughly 17, the awkwardness is nicely rounded out by muscle mass, but not completely gone. This moment in time boasts Marvus, smiling wide and a little overwhelmed at the edges, in his signature purple and pink pants and a sheer, amethyst-encrusted shirt. He's with some big-wig in a pinstriped blue suit and frosted tips, being presented with what can only be the SOGC championship.

The last trio of pictures of modern Marvus at the AVMA's. He’s accepting a golden record in the first, holding the golden record over his head in the second, and throwing the golden record on the ground to the horrified expression of the host in the last.

Marvus runs a fond finger over this trio of apparently happy memories. Another troll- out of frame- is quick to wipe away his fingerprints again.

Marvus: always knew id be big

Marvus turns the camera back to him.

Marvus: never knew i'd be breaking records tho LOL !!

You have no idea what the significance of this is, but you smile and nod anyway.

Step into the elevator.

Well, Marvus steps into the elevator, anyway. It's disorienting. The elevator is lined with four funhouse mirrors. Marvus is in front of you, and also in front of many mirror images of his distorted self. In any other context, you might have some deep commentary about this; as it is, the only thing in your head is an impending headache.

But finally, he steps out.

Sometimes, when Marvus is excited about something, he likes to draw it out. And the thing is: he's good, setting up suspense before you even realize you're excited.

As he walks through the hallway, you realize that's what he's done here. Plain doors pass through the frame, the hallways lined with more of Marvus's pride. He stops in front of a door with his name on it, framed with a purple star.

Marvus: ready for tha main event ?

He winks at you, the creak from the door slowly opening up matching the rising tension in your own body. You're so ready.

Marvus: i ain't never shown nobody dis before

Get ready to savor the moment.

Marvus continues his master camera work. He slowly pans through the room, starting at the left. With commentary.

Marvus: so thatz my weed bar :o)

Marvus: i keep my faygo up there 2

He slowly revolves around a bar set up with plastic drawers and littered with lighters. The backboard is turned off, but you've been in enough Spencer's to recognize a fuck huge lava lamp when you see one. Faygo is lined up in order of Mr ol' faithful, Roy G. Biv.

In the center of the line up of bottles is a miniature figure of Marvus himself, pouring one out for, presumably, his homies. Marvus passes a plastic cup beneath the statues and faygo flows freely from the bottle.

With a swig of his drink, Marvus moves on.

Marvus: got my face paint mirror

He zooms in on the mirror; it's a strikingly lovely vanity, opalescent like pearl and shockingly clean. His own face is focused on the camera; you didn't for a second consider that he could see you too. You can only hope you're making all the right expressions. At the edge of the mirror, you notice a newspaper clipping; it's of him (slumming it in his flat top and sunglasses) and you (striking a ridiculous karate pose, leg extended for kicking and elbow bent at 90 degrees).

He's cut out all of the text, which is probably for the best. Instead of acknowledging the picture he's clearly lingering on, though, he picks up his dressing robe from the back of his chair.

Marvus: love my robe mang

Marvus: feels like i'm bout 2 box

He sets his palmhusk down on his vanity and then throws two jabs and a hook at the phone before laughing at himself.

Continue the tour.

Marvus: nahh haha i aint dat type of boxer

Marvus: check thissss

He starts beatboxing as he picks up his palmhusk. There's a real joy he spits alongside those beats; in some people, you can see them smile all the way to their eyes. In Marvus, he smiles more with his voicebox.

He continues the tour, beatboxing all the while.

The rest is pretty normal stuff. Big comfy couch. Big screen tv. Big snack bar. Big speakers. You get it; he's rich.

He zooms in on an artful photo of himself. In black and white, Marvus leans into the crowd, and the crowd reaches for him as one. He's smiling more than he's singing, his mic down by his chest. His hair hangs all along the right side of him, capturing the stark lines of his profile against inky, pitch black.

Most pictures are worth a thousand words. This one just needs one: love. Marvus absolutely, indisputably, loves what he does.

Marvus: my first concert

He runs his hand along the sea of hands in the portrait. Unlike downstairs, there's nobody to wipe away his fingerprints.

Marvus: moments like dat...

Marvus: if you get'em, you gotta make them last

MSPAR: How do you like, do all this?

MSPAR: It's got to be tough. Everyone expects greatness from you and you always deliver.

Marvus: dat's tha thing, tho

Marvus: tough to get laughs at a free show

Marvus: thang is

Marvus: they pay, they get they exxxpectations up

Marvus: and i get 2 give em what they mfin pay for

Raise an eyebrow.

He sure went surface level with that answer.

MSPAR: Right, but you don't get burnt out?

MSPAR: From where I'm standing-

Marvus: on ya lil bench

MSPAR: From where I'm sitting on my little bench, it looks like you're constantly putting in some hard work.

MSPAR: I have eyes; clearly you love what you do.

Marvus gives a lovesick smile, glancing up at his picture again. Is it funnier that he's giving _himself_ a lovesick smile, or sadder that you wish it was directed at _you?_

Marvus pauses for a good moment; is he... reflecting?? It's the first time you've seen him do it, but somehow it doesn't feel out of character.

Marvus: yeah, gets hard ig

Marvus: but itz easier tha more i do it :o)

Marvus: got my room to come back 2

Marvus: and my homiez got my back, too

Marvus smiles at you. Could it be? Does Marvus consider you a homie? Only one way to test the waters.

MSPAR: And you know I'm around to listen when I can.

Marvus: bet

Marvus: tbh ur really sumn spesh !

Marvus: guess you could say i like talking w u

Tamp down the flames of flattery.

You do everything in your power to repress a blush.

It's too little, too late. There's a heat on your face that can only mean one thing: you're blushing.

Marvus: itz comforting, you know?

Marvus: cuz ur new here :o)

Marvus: never learned the rulezz so you never follow them

Maruvs: your a real one

Marvus: respek

He holds his fist out.

Fist bump?

You push your fist towards him and... yes, this is a virtual fist bump.

Marvus: dgmw tho a jugg does get grouchy

MSPAR: It must be hard.

MSPAR: Fucking all these bitches.

Startled, Marvus lets out a sharp laugh.

Marvus: maaan

Marvus: wut juggz you been hanging w

Marvus: talking like dat

Marvus: for dam SHAME !!

But for his words, he does continue to laugh. So you join him.

Marvus: fxxking

Marvus: all these BITCHEZ

Marvus: all up in my BIZNESS

He freezes, taps his forehead, and then writes something down.

Marvus: yuuuhhhh

Marvus: see what i mean ?

Marvus: this is where the magic happens my man

MSPAR: Let me see!

Marvus: nah

Marvus: no good living in a world with no mfin magic and mystery

You watch him shift around on his couch, fluffing up pillows to support his head as he leans back.

Oh hell yeah, get crunk get drunk get COZY!

You, regrettably, are still sitting on a cold hard bench in an empty alley. But Marvus leans back, his eyes drooping as he relaxes after an apparently long day.

MSPAR: You said you were doing chores earlier.

MSPAR: What's new in your life?

Marvus: oh u know

Marvus: same shizz, different facepaint

Marvus: saw my new threadz ?

He slowly pans the camera down.

Marvus: hit tha gym

The generous view of his chest; yes you were well aware of that particular feature.

Marvus: terrorized da tailors

Yes, the patterned suit jacket and the sheer shirt; you are not immune to a jester with sex appeal and a strange wardrobe.

Marvus: got wicked fxxking scolded by my dietician

He starts to pan to his crotch; blessedly, he doesn't linger there for long or at all, pulling a sugar cookie assaulted with rainbow sprinkles out of his pocket before continuing. His voice is sweet and full of crumbs when he speaks again.

Marvus: currently getting buddy-buddy with my buddy

He lifts his leg up. He's wearing jeans- definitely designer, but for once not ostentatious- with a rip across the knee. Underneath, he's wearing fishnets. Or maybe they're a part of the jeans? You try to imagine Marvus in fishnets and force yourself to stop before you accidentally bump up the rating.

Marvus: got a gift from a brother :o)

He pans down to his left foot, still clad in an ankle-high boot. On the chain that hangs sullenly from the boot is a myriad of charms and mementos. He points to a red one, hand-carved into a spiral.

The significance is lost on you; mostly, you're horrified that he's wearing shoes on the couch.

MSPAR: Boots on the couch?

MSPAR: Take those off you fucking cretin.

Marvus: hell no

He starts unlacing them anyway. With his first boot off and thrown to the floor, he wiggles his toes at you.

Marvus: socks too ?

Marvus: tryna see those beans ?

MSPAR: Part of my get rich quick scheme.

MSPAR: Private tour of your personal green room won't net shit.

MSPAR: The feet pics, though?

MSPAR: Instant billionaire.

MSPAR: Overnight, I expect.

Consider the worth of friendship.

No need to consider. Friendship is priceless.

Marvus laughs as he toes off his other boot. You take note of his socks; clearly a gift from a sponsor, the logo clear and defined but ultimately soulless.

You make a mental note to get Marvus some more soulful socks.

Marvus finally turns the camera back to his face. He's rubbing his eyes as he half laughs, half smiles. He looks so tired that your heart gives a sympathetic throb.

Marvus: wouldn't be the first, babe

MSPAR: To sell your feet pics???

Marvus: 2 ask

You snort.

MSPAR: You're falling asleep.

Marvus: im tired

MSPAR: You invited me to your room.

MSPAR: Falling asleep near-instantly is pretty rude.

Marvus: tell me a story then

Marvus: tell me abt ur interview with the van pyre

His attention shifts, laser-focused on you. How to describe Ardata? You start, then, from the beginning.

Marvus falls asleep before you can even tell him about your secret fear of killing Ardata's lusus with your big dumb ass.

GOOD END

MSPAR: Let's go somewhere.

Marvus stops right in the middle of grouching about his fans.

Marvus: yeah ?

Marvus: where you tryna go babe ?

MSPAR: Anywhere. Right now.

MSPAR: Let's go on a date.

Marvus grins. Sometimes, it really strikes you how young he can look. He has the air and smile of a child handed a sweet out of nowhere.

Naivety? You glance back to Marvus, who is practically bouncing on the balls of his feet while more trolls sew his clothes onto him. It suits him tremendously, at odds yet somehow in balance with his ever-present, lurking vulgarity. It's sweet. _He's_ sweet.

Start walking.

Energy fills you to the brim, more excited than nervous for once.

You're going to see Marvus. On your own terms. _Marvus._

Marvus: aight bet baby

Marvus: catch me at da station

There's some back and forth- mostly directions, where Marvus does his best to explain the local geography to you while switching back and forth between his maps app and your face- before you're off.

Walk to the station.

Though you're still feeling the blurry edges of emotional exhaustion, your walk through town energizes you. You pass by kitsch shops, selling everything from cutesy plushies (brandishing real knives and swords), hand made shoes, paper crafts, etc. For once, you don't feel jealousy or shame. You don't need any knick-knacks. Your wallet is flush and full of a new currency, a currency with immeasurable value.

Yeah. Friendship. By wallet, you guess you meant heart, which is alarming. You make a mental note to spend more time with Fozzer if he's feeling any better.

Arrive at the station.

Your walk is over before you know it.

The station in front of you is forboding and cold, just like every other omniscuttlebus station on Alternia. Wind rushes at you, its hands grabbing at your clothes and brushing against the skin of your face.

Even if you'd felt inclined, you wouldn't be able to go in anyway. The bloodcaste monitor beeps a foreboding red, same shade as your blood. God forbid one of these less friendly trolls figures out the connection.

So you wait for Marvus outside. For now, it's enough to stave off the otherworldly chill of the station with your now half-full cup of your mysterious warm beverage from the cafe.

Don't fall asleep.

If there's one thing Alternia managed to beat out of you, it's your human survival instinct. Your eyes close, as if from their own accord. You've got a hand full of warmth, a brain full of mental and emotional stress, and a future full of clown.

Life is good.

Wake up.

You're not sleeping, you just-

Marvus is standing right in front of you. Hell, maybe you did doze off.

Marvus: knew you was bored

Marvus: but shieettt

Marvus: u ok ?

MSPAR: Just resting.

MSPAR: It's been a rough start.

Marvus: i get that :o)

Marvus: letz skedaddle then !

Marvus: keep ya on ya toes

He leads you to the station. Then, without preamble, he smashes the head of his cane into the blood caste scanner, leading you inside without breaking his stride.

A goldblood peeks their disgruntled face from within the ticket booth, their official station hat askew as if they, too, are waking from a nap.

Marvus: aw shizz

Marvus: my bad man !

Marvus: clowns can be so clumsyyy, u kno xo) ?

The goldblood doesn't respond, pulling tools out from their overalls and getting straight to work.

You'd feel a little guilty, but there's genuine pleasure behind their puzzled hums and glee to the movements of their wrench.

MSPAR: Always though the ol' "highbloods get away with everything" adage was hyperbole.

Marvus: wellll

Marvus: only the empire approved everything

You don't ask. He doesn't elaborate.

Figure out where you're going.

MSPAR: Where are we going?

Marvus: wym ?

Marvus: u said right here, right now

MSPAR: Did I?

Marvus points to the name of the station, backlit on a map of the omniscuttlebus routes.

MSPAR: I can't read.

Marvus: this is anywhere station, babe

You get the sense that maybe he is messing with you, fantasy and fuckery merging into a pleasant glint in his eyes.

Marvus: sides

Marvus: traffiks a beeotch this time of day

Marvus: i say we take the good times while we can

Marvus: make tha good times where we can

Marvus: and then we take the omniscuttlebus back to my car

Marvus: i'll drive

Marvus: anywhere you like, babe :o)

It's strange; with anyone else, spending a few hours at the omniscuttlebus station sounds horribly droll. With Marvus, though... Well, you're excited to see what he comes up with.

Highbloods really do get away with everything.

Get something to eat.

Even the most unconventional dates need a little grounding. What's more traditional than dinner and a movie?

Although it's a little early for dinner. Still, trolls start to filter in from the omniscuttlebus that's just arrived. There's your movie; even trolls, forced in their color-coded boxes, are filled with their eccentricities. You're interested to hear what Marvus thinks about it. Or if he thinks about it at all.

MSPAR: Sandwiches or burgers?

Marvus: sushi

He points to a sushi bar, manned by apparently nobody.

Automatic, train station sushi. Is that safe? Is that _legal?_ On second thought, you don't care what's legal on Alternia. When trolls have terms like "benevolent parasite," your stomach declares all raw food illegal.

MSPAR: Sandwiches for me, thanks.

Marvus heads to get his sushi. You head to get your sandwich.

Bliss the fuck out again.

You're starting to think that all of the psychic interference today is messing with your head. Then again, train stations and airports have that quality about them. There's something about spending time in places intended to be transient; you feel just a little more disconnected from the world than usual.

Marvus comes back while you're considering the merits of mixing chocolate and strawberry milk. He's got his sushi in a wooden box held close to him on his left and a sandwich and snack pack outstretched towards you on his right.

The sandwich pack comes with strawberry milk in a skinny, plastic carton.

Wander around the station.

You wander, Marvus leads. You take bites of your sandwich, he shoves sushi into his mouth whole. Marvus steals sips of your strawberry milk.

All in all, it's comfortable. There are a few instances of people looking at him and whispering among themselves in groups, but he takes it in stride. Occasionally he waves. Mostly, though, he leads.

In time, he takes you to an access hatch and just... He pops the fuck in.

Follow him.

Though the access hatch is dark and frankly, a little terrifying, you feel compelled to follow him. Almost as if you're a little dude on a computer screen and someone just pressed a button that said "follow him."

Then again, this is Marvus. You would never allow yourself to settle in his dust.

Inside the hatch is a narrow hallway. It's not so narrow as to be claustrophobic, but narrow enough that you get the sense that you definitely should not be here. The omniscuttlebus leaves the station and Marvus flashes in front of you as the lights pass through holes carved for airflow.

Marvus: u like to be alone, buddy ?

It's a strange question said in a strange voice; you are very rarely alone, and neither is he.

MSPAR: I think everyone likes some space now and then.

MSPAR: But, like all things, it's about moderation.

Marvus: i get that

You hear him crunch on the last of his meal before throwing his box out of one of the holes.

Marvus: i'm never alone

Marvus: sometimez i feel like...

Marvus stops abruptly in front of you.

Marvus: a ship adrift at sea

Marvus: all the little fishies looking up at me

Marvus: tho they can see me, i can't see them

Marvus: wonder if my face looks distorted through tha water

Something squeals, loud and uninvited into the quiet Marvus has shrouded you in.

God, did Marvus get the sushi with the malevolent parasites or something? He's never this direct. He never lets his smile fall.

See him as Marvus, the person.

That screech from earlier turns out to be the door. Light spills out around Marvus's silhouette, nearly blinding.

Fuck, so much for getting up close and personal. You are very aware that Marvus was only brave in the dark and narrow, where his voice didn't echo and only you were listening.

Marvus: ah ha ha

Marvus: wut the fxxk i'm saying, mang

MSPAR: Long day?

He leads you up a metal ladder.

Marvus doesn't respond, answering instead by sitting on the catwalk and letting his legs dangle below with an indulgent sigh.

You're sitting above the station, roughly 20 feet up.

Marvus points to some spray paint on the hidden side of the wall.

Marvus: thot of you first time i saw dat

You startle. Marvus thinks about you? You startle again. Marvus has been here before?

Marvus frowns, concerned.

Marvus: cold ?

He takes his jacket off and wraps you in it. Curiously, the jacket lacks warmth, or any suggestion of his body heat. You guess that "heat" isn't quite the word for him, though. Oh, he's passionate, absolutely. But he's cold-blooded, cool-tempered, and frosty all the way through.

Admire Marvus.

Done. He's as beautiful as ever; you don't feel the need to write a fucking soliloquy about it right now.

MSPAR: You've been here before?

Marvus: ya

The omniscuttlebus pulls into the station, not three feet away from Marvus's dangling toes.

Marvus: itz good for me to get away sometimes lol

Marvus gestures to the station, arms spread wide like he owns the place.

Marvus: behold, my sea

Trolls scurry out from the scuttlebus, pressed thin between their personal schedules and the unreal air of a transient space.

Marvus: and my fishes

MSPAR: This time, it's the other way around.

Marvus tilts his head to look at you, raising a brow.

MSPAR: You can see them but they can't see you.

Marvus: nah i'm sure they could catch a gander

Marvus: if they knew where to look ;o)

Marvus: but yeah dogg

Marvus: found this place bout a sweep ago

Marvus: torn up in fxxking tatterz over a rough interview

Marvus: sometimez u just get sick of being Marvus: The Brand

You hide your smile; he frames his name with his fingers, his face so serious. You can practically hear the capital letters.

Marvus: could be anyone up here

Marvus: do whatever tf u want

Marvus: no consequences, no expectationz

Marvus: check it

Marvus cups his hands around his mouth before he shouts.

Marvus: whoop whoop !!!!

His voice echoes through the station, startling half a thousand trolls. Nobody looks for him, though. Hell, most trolls barely break their stride.

It's kind of ridiculous.

MSPAR: Now I _really_ don't know what to give the troll with everything.

MSPAR: I've seen you in three separate green rooms, your dressing room, and your hive.

MSPAR: But this dingy, dusty catwalk is your happy place.

Marvus: just give me ya company, boo

Marvus: i get lost in a sea of people

Marvus: and find myself w u :o)

Admire the art.

You know better. Too much honesty ruins a good thing.

You let Marvus settle into some silence, his extroverted side fighting him the whole way down. Once he settles down onto his hands, you get to the second part of your date.

MSPAR: What's the point of art you can't see?

You don't really mean this; art for art's sake has value. Mostly, you're interested in hearing what Marvus has to say.

Marvus: depends

Marvus: see dat tag, there ?

He points to a purple and gold tag, deep in the tunnel.

Marvus: that's just a sister showing out for her fam lol

Marvus: no soul in dat

Marvus: now look at dat one

He points to a portrait. It's hard to tell if the artist was experimenting with cubism or still learning the anatomy of a troll face. Still, the imperfections are charming, and the lines are sure and clean.

Marvus: see da streaks at the edges ?

Marvus: homie worked on dat between scuttles

Marvus: in and out like a ninja w that shizz

Marvus: far as i know, thatz love right there

His face wobbles into some kind of twisted, lovesick grin. He pulls you into him, leaning his head on yours.

MSPAR: So it reminds you of me...

MSPAR: Because it's something strange in a place where it's not supposed to be?

Marvus: wasn't thinking dat hard abt it lol

Marvus: just...

He exhales, relaxing further into your space.

Marvus: all the good stuff reminds me of u

Marvus: ya dig ?

Marvus kisses you on the crown of your head, so soft that you could mistake it for the pressure differential of an approaching omniscuttlebus. If you were so inclined. You bump your head into his lips, seeking another kiss. He laughs, his breath cool against your scalp and scented like artificial strawberry.

You wonder what it's like to kiss him while you're both laughing.

The train rushes into the station. And, smiling, you rush into him.

GOOD END

Hmm… A little sunshine, some time spent in nature; could the hippies have gotten it right?

There is the small detail of the carnivorous plant life all around you. How the hell do you differentiate between the malevolent plants and the indifferent plants?

The answer is so obvious. Who even are you that you had to ask the question in the first place?

Phone a friend.

Now the question is: which one? Charun might know the places where the moonlight shines best. Maybe Vikare would be willing to educate you on Alternia's edible plants some more. Polypa might have a few haunts in mind.

With this in mind, you shoot them each a text. Cast a large enough net and you’re sure to get at least one fish, right?

Wait for a response.

You lie back on your elbows and set your palm husk on your belly. With a stretch, you lean your neck back until you can see out the window.

The green moon peeks shyly around the corner of your window. From your upside-down perspective, the misty clouds look like dew upon the purple skies of Alterneia.

 _Sigh._ You're back at step one.

Try again.

Right when you unlock your palm husk, you receive a text.

Charun: Sorry..

Charun: I'm busy..

Charun: Invoking a fugue state..

Fugue state? There's a pause while you figure out the best way to express your concern. You really hope this is a “closest approximation” situation.

Charun: Maybe next week....

Charun: .........

Charun: If I'm still myself..

MSPAR: Please stay safe :(

Charun: No worries..

Charun: Everyone is safest in their own subconscious....

Well. That's a dead end. You spend a few minutes deciphering the Alternian calendar on your phone, setting a reminder in a few days to check on them again.

Your phone buzzes again.

Don't get your hopes up.

Oh, who are you fooling? Any communication with a friend gives you that sweet dopamine rush.

Vikare: ~Apologies, chum, but me and The Canary took to the ole gams and glad rags this morning.~

Vikare: ~You're welcome to hop in your jalopy and meet us at the crossroads!~

You consider hopping in your jalopy and meeting him at the crossroads. You glance over at your buggy. It shakes and rattles as it stretches its legs in front of it. Honestly, you're not sure how fuel works on this planet. It mashes its pincers a little bit. You're not sure you _want_ to know how fuel works on this planet.

MSPAR: I'll take a rain check.

Try a new tactic.

New tactic: learn to face rejection without crying about it. You're shaking with the effort it takes to hold back. A single tear strolls its lazy way down your cheek. You clench your hands where they're sitting on your thighs.

Scratch that: the new tactic is learning to fail gracefully. You let yourself feel your frustration. And you let it out.

Success!

Check your palmhusk again.

Polypa still hasn't texted you back.

But just as you open your messages, you get a- _ugh,_ this pun again- macetime request. From Skylla.

Oh fuck freshen up!

There's no time. In your panic, you've hit the accept call button.

Why do pretty girls always want to see you when you're a disaster?

Think fast!

MSPAR: Howdy partner!

You say this like the country bumpkin you actually are not.

Skylla throws her head back with a laugh.

Skylla: Howdyy yyourself!

Skylla: Everyything alright?

Oh god, she can see the disaster behind you. Or maybe she can see the disaster that _is_ you. Either way, she smiles her crooked smile around the piece of hay she's chewing on.

Skylla: Onlyy askin' cause yyou liked darn near everyything on myy chittr feed round sundown.

Skylla: Bored?

MSPAR: You have no idea.

Skylla: Well, not for nothing but yyou can just call me next time yyou're feeling lonelyy.

Skylla: Gave me quite a spook with those 43 notifications.

You apologize with a reasonable amount of sheepish charisma.

Skylla: No need for apologies.

Skylla: Think yyou can join a ladyy for some strong black tea, a good hot meal, and some easyy companyy?

MSPAR: I think I can.

Skylla smiles an easy smile. You smile back.

Success comes twofold, indeed.

Figure out how fuel works on this planet.

You take your old jalopy out for a spin after all. Skylla directs you to the nearest fuel depot.

It turns out fueling up your buggy involves inserting a tube of goo into your buggy's mouth bits. Is there anything on this planet doesn't involve goo?

It only takes about an hour to get to Skylla's from there.

Pull up.

Ladyy is on you the second you step out of your car. Your face is wet from kisses, and her tail is wagging so hard that she pushes you both down in the dirt. Your puppy talk is embarrassing but Ladyy is eating it up.

Skylla: That's enough, Ladyy! Give our guest some breathing room.

Skylla stands over you, holding out her hand.

God. You forgot how beautiful she was. She stands in her rough denim tucked in her boots and a sports bra, glistening with sweat. She's completely unselfconscious.

You take her hand and she hauls you up.

Skylla: Hope you don't mind!

Skylla: I'm just finishing up some work around the ranch.

Ask her if she needs help.

As soon as the words leave your mouth, you feel ridiculous asking. But Skylla is incredibly gracious.

Skylla: Yyou'll die standing up, huh?

Despite the ominous words, she laughs.

Skylla: Not much help yyou can give.

Skylla: The dim season's fixing to roll in.

Skylla: It's about to be colder than a highblood's heart round these parts.

She walks up to an axe resting on the stairs of her balcony, wiping some sweat from her brow. With that, she's off, walking forward and away.

Follow her.

Skylla stops in front of an ancient stump, riddled with axe wounds but standing stout and proud. A lone chunk of wood stands in the center, awaiting the chop. She holds the axe on her shoulder as she turns to meet your gaze.

Skylla: Get you some prairie coal and the right set of stumps-

She brings the axe down hard on the wood. It doesn't split. She uses her fingers to twist the wood around on the stump.

Skylla: And you're set for the night.

She brings the axe down hard a second time. The chunk of wood splinters into six equal parts. She does this three more times before she stops to take a long drink from a bottle of water.

MSPAR: Prairie coal...?

She laughs as she finishes her drink.

Skylla: Cow shit.

The two of you dissolve into giggles.

Skylla: Hungryy?

You nod. She pats you on the back, sending you stumbling forward. As she walks past you, she glances back with a wink and waves you to follow her. Her back is freckled brown from time spent in the moonlight. Sweat glistens on her skin like stars.

You guess you could say you're thirsty, too, but that's really neither here nor there.

Have brunch with Skylla.

Is this brunch? Lunch? Dinner? You have no idea what time it is.

If you were planning to guess by the contents of your meal, it proves difficult. Skylla pulls eggs from an uneven wicker basket. She passes you a pair of scissors and directs you to a plant with thick leaves striped in red and green. She pulls out a loaf of crusty bread, then glances back at you and shoos you away.

Skylla: No guest of mine gets put to work.

Skylla: If yyou reallyy want to help, yyou can park yyour behind in that chair and keep me entertained.

So you cut a few leaves off of the striped plant as quickly as possible. The leaves in your hand are weirdly spongy, almost meaty. As soon as you take your share, the rest of the leaf still planted in the soil shrivels and dies in front of you. God, this is awful. Your friend invited you to visit and all you do is drool over her and kill her plants.

Skylla calls from the kitchen, humor in her voice.

Skylla: It's supposed to do that!

Skylla: Now come on!!

You drop off what you managed to cut off and take a seat at her table. You notice a new chair that sits taller. Perfect for someone a little shorter. Perfect for her alien guests.

Chat.

Skylla cooks while you entertain. She mentions her horses, Chunky Sam and Sour Pete, as she places the plant matter into the skillet alongside the eggs. It curls up and squeals as it lets out some steam.

Skylla: Could take yyou for a ride next time yyou're here.

You're barely able to tamp down your blush before you get another macetime request.

Skylla waves her spatula at you, and you answer at the table.

Marvus: hey :o)

Panic.

Marvus looks. Well. There's no other way to say it: this is a clown who needs some TLC. His hair is a mess, his eyes droop closed as if he might fall asleep at any minute. He even has his usually immaculate face paint smeared on his neck.

You, for your part, can't seem to catch a break. You've got a face full of sexy clown and a dinner-date full of cowgirl and innuendo. What's an alien stranded on a strange planet to do?

MSPAR: Hey.

Perfect.

Talk to Marvus.

Marvus: wya

Marvus: i'll pick u up :o)

MSPAR: Well...

Polypa warned you about this. Get too close to too many trolls and you get situations in all sorts of shades of red and black. Do you risk offending Skylla by downplaying this whole... thing, whatever it is? Do you risk Marvus putting the walls up again by being too blase about whatever it is you have with him?

Marvus saves your ass at the last second.

Marvus: ya boy is running on E M P T Y

Skylla takes the chance to turn to you and mouth something. "Friend of yours?" You relive your earlier crisis. God damn trolls and their quadrants! But "friend" is as close to the truth as you can get. You nod.

Marvus: oh hell yeah

Marvus: you hungry too ?

Skylla calls from her spot at the stove.

Skylla: I reckon yyou're welcome here, stranger!

She turns the burner off and walks into frame.

Skylla: Anyy friend of myy friend here is a friend of mine.

Once Skylla catches her first glimpse of Marvus, she noticeably pales.

Marvus: u sure it ain't enemy ?

Skylla huffs a laugh, giving Marvus the benefit of the doubt, which is more than he deserves. You mouth "behave" at Marvus. He gives you a sheepish grin in return.

Skylla: Can it, flannel mouth, I'm spoken for in that quadrant.

Marvus tilts his head, bewildered that she took his flirting for something sincere. It's no surprise this is a first for him.

You sure do love seeing trolls out of their element! But you really wish you could end this conversation for them both.

After a quick back and forth of the most complicated directions you've ever heard, Marvus finally hangs up with a final "peace out homies :o)."

Eat your brunch.

Skylla's made you eggs over easy on a bed of alfalfa with salsa, mozzarella, and some sort of sweet and sour drizzle. All this on top of toasted bread. The plant turns out to be a pretty close stand-in for bacon, if a little stringier.

You are on cloud fucking nine. This is the best brunch you've ever had.

Skylla: He's an odd stick, that one.

MSPAR: Who, Marvus? He's harmless.

Skylla quirks up the corner of her mouth, suppressing a smile.

MSPAR: I mean it!

Skylla: Oh, I'm just getting your dander up.

She leans in, salsa dripping from her brunch and splatting on her plate in a steady tempo.

Skylla: Yyou like him, huh?

MSPAR: What? No.

You say this with the air of someone who really likes Marvus.

Skylla: Yyou _reallyy_ like him, then?

You snort into laughter. Skylla slaps her knuckles against your arm, playfulness radiating from her touch until you're both slapping each other and laughing.

Skylla: Guess I'll save him a plate, then.

It takes some convincing, but Skylla does let you clean up brunch while she gets washed and dressed.

Wait patiently for Marvus to arrive.

Skylla sits you both down on a swinging bench on her porch. You fidget while she whittles away on a piece of wood, whistling as she works. Ladyy comes up, curious, and you throw a stick for her a few times.

It doesn't take long for Marvus to show up. Skylla gets up and starts waving her hat around in greeting. It's hard not to get caught up in her energy; you're hooting and hollering away.

You hoot and holler as Marvus pulls into her ranch. And you keep hooting and hollering as Marvus... continues to pull in. His limo seems to pull in for a solid five minutes; you're about to patent the hoot and holler exercise technique. What asshole drives a limo onto a ranch?

Marvus pulls himself out of the driver's side and walks toward you.

Marvus: wut is UPPP homiez LOL !!

He does that hand clap... handshake thing, the one you never learned how to do and the one he delights in watching you fumble. He turns to face Skylla, face as blank and polite as can be.

Skylla makes the first move, grabbing his hand and giving it an earth-shattering shake.

Skylla: Name's Skyylla!

Marvus: sup :o)

Marvus: i'm marvus

Skylla nods her head towards his limo with a low whistle.

Skylla: Bet yyou're the biggest toad in the puddle 'round these parts.

Marvus: idk about dat lol

Marvus: butttt i'm def the biggest clown in tha car !!

Skylla's smile twists like she's not sure if she should laugh or take him seriously.

Skylla: Biggest clown in something, I'll bet.

Marvus: word

Silence collects in an awkward web between you all. You ask vaguely how Marvus is feeling.

Skylla: Bet yyou're plumb tuckered out after a drive like that.

Marvus: wasn't the drive, sis, but the destination, ya dig?

Skylla: M... myy ranch??

Skylla looks taken aback. Marvus's mouth gets tight once he realizes he's just put his size 17 clown shoe straight in his mouth.

Marvus: nahh lol

Marvus: my chores

Skylla lets out a genuine laugh this time. The tension dissolves immediately, like you're all bonding over the shared experience of how exhausting chores are. Leave it to Marvus to save an awkward situation.

Marvus looks around as if seeing where he is for the first time.

Marvus: yo who delivers uh, "round these parts" lol ?

Marvus turns to you with a wry glance. You suggest that maybe Marvus might like the leftovers that Skylla painstakingly cooked. He tilts his head at you. That she painstakingly cooked for both of you.

Maybe it's because Marvus doesn't like to start shit with you (regarding your friends specifically), or maybe it's because deep, deep down, Marvus does have a single polite, twisted bone in his body. Either way, he smiles over at Skylla.

Marvus: oh hellz yeah

Marvus elbows her playfully.

Marvus: our bud here didn't mention you was an artist too !

Marvus: respek

Skylla: ..."too?"

Skylla: Yyou're an artist?

Listen to the harsh blow to Marvus's ego from where you're standing.

Give the blow to Marvus's ego a gentle kiss and a cute bandaid.

There's a moment where Marvus's face gets hard, shifts to befuddled, then settles back into what you privately call his "PR training didn't prepare me for this" face. But, as always, Marvus recovers gracefully and with a smile.

Marvus: ya

God, he nailed it. You start to lead him into the kitchen, thrilled that he didn't take that personally, but he stops with a theatrical search of his pockets. From the depths, he manages to find his palm husk.

Marvus: damn

Marvus: sorry but i gotta take this one fr

He walks back to his limo. Skylla glances over to you as he starts up the engine and makes a 32-point turn out of her ranch.

Skylla: Was it something I said?

**BAD END**

MSPAR: Skylla likes country music.

Marvus: oooh

Marvus: bet

Kiss delivered, bandaid applied, friendship approved. Skylla grins a dreamy grin.

Skylla: Alwayys did take a shine to Miss Dollyy Parton.

Marvus: ain't dat that b-

You elbow Marvus hard in the ribs.

Marvus: _(oof)_

Marvus: that _lady _with the big t-__

You knock his ankle with your foot.

Maruvs: _(ow, fxxk lol)_

Marvus: the big tassels on her jacket ?

MSPAR: Every performer worth their salt knows the value of a good jacket.

Marvus: haha word !

Skylla: Oh, she's just divine, ain't she?

Skylla leads you all to the table, where Marvus's food is sitting neatly under a tent of tinfoil. Skylla fidgets momentarily before realizing she's the host here.

Skylla: Well, fly at it!

Chat while Marvus eats.

__  
_  
_  
____  
  


Skylla talks some more about country artists she likes; you're barely able to restrain Marvus from showing her his mix-tape.

All the while, Marvus just really goes to town on his plate. You're talking about full-on lick lipping, finger sucking, mouth wiping _town_.

Anxiety sparks in your gut. God, Skylla must think you have the rudest friends. Dare you look over at her?

It's your duty as the kingpin of this friendly grouping to make sure things don't get tense, though. So, gathering all your courage, you do look over at her.

To your delight, she has her head on her hand and she's smiling. Maybe her arms are still crossed over her chest defensively, but a smile is a smile and a smile is all you can ask for.

Skylla: Prettyy good, huh?

Marvus responds with a "hell yeah" or something around a mouth full of food.

You take a good look at him; he seems to be perking up. His hair is still a little flat, but his eyes shine a little brighter and he's sitting straight again.

Hell. Yes. You need to keep this momentum going.

Skylla: No wonder yyou city folk all look so slim.

Skylla: Yy'ain't got good food and yy'ain't got much soul.

Marvus: nahh

Marvus: when ya diet's this fxxking strict

Marvus: u gotta double up on dat soul, sis !!

Marvus: celeb lyfe 👊😔

You don't know why he's fist-bumping her- maybe soul is recognizing soul here- but god he's really going for it. Skylla glances over to you, panicked. You mime bumping your fists together. She doesn't seem to get it. You have to do something.

Triple fist bump.

You go for it. Skylla follows your lead.

The three of you meet in the middle with the most pitiful fistbump you've ever witnessed. If an unstoppable force met an immovable object, the result would be the exact opposite of this experience.

Marvus is unfazed. You worry that you may have to stop him from actually licking his plate, but he wipes his fingers with a wink sent your way.

And then he just... sits there. Is he expecting you to clean up? Skylla? Skylla notices him sitting there. You all notice each other to various degrees.

You know this feeling. Someone is about to say something really stupid.

Keep your mouth shut.

It's not going to be you. Not this time. You give them both hard glances, trying to communicate the mood.

Skylla is quiet. Marvus is, miraculously, quiet. It looks like you all read the room. You say a quiet thanks.

MSPAR: The sink's that way.

Skylla points behind her to really drive the point home, but she shoots a thankful smile your way. Marvus takes his cue beautifully; you never thought you'd see the day Marvus Xoloto cleared his own plate. Maybe you should take video evidence.

Before you have time to ruminate any further on this new development, Skylla jerks her head towards the door. Marvus gets distracted on his phone; now is the only time you'll get alone with her before his inner extrovert gets the best of him.

Step outside.

The air is starting to cool as the sun moons reach the apex of their arc and the sun hides behind Alternia. Skylla leans against the railing, lowering her hat against the light as her fingers search in her shirt pocket.

From within, she pulls a rolled-up... leaf?

Skylla: Quirleyy?

What?

Skylla: Smoke?

Dare to resist drugs.

She shrugs her shoulders before she flicks a zippo with shaking hand.

Skylla: Never had to deal with a highblood so...

Skylla: Up close and personal.

MSPAR: Yeah, Marvus can be like that.

MSPAR: Emphasis on the up close.

MSPAR: Emphasis on the personal.

She drags a shaking hand through her hair, repositioning her hat, while she exhales a slow plume of smoke.

Skylla: Don't think too low of me, now.

She turns to give you a smile that's no less true for its tilt and wobble.

Skylla: I almost never do this, yyou hear me?

She wiggles her cig at you, "this" being smoking.

Skylla: But that man is all fence and no barbed wire.

Skylla: I can't figure him out.

Skylla gives you an incredulous look, warping her features around the weight of it.

Skylla: What's a girl to do?

MSPAR: You seemed fine back there.

You have it on good authority that country girls make do.

Skylla looks down with a rueful look, her smoking hand on her forehead. You worry that she might light her hat on fire, but she brings her quirley back to her mouth for a quick drag.

Skylla: Figure I should practice before I'm sent off.

Skylla: I just don't _get_ them, yyou know what I mean?

You nod.

MSPAR: It can be... difficult, with him.

MSPAR: My secret?

MSPAR: Clowns like to play pretend.

MSPAR: Just pretend you're already friends.

MSPAR: He certainly is.

You can hear Marvus making his slow way through her hive to join you.

Show Skylla Marvus's soul.

Marvus said he had twice the soul to make up for his slender frame.

Well, you hope he intends on proving it.

Marvus joins you at the rail. Skylla lets out a deep breath before smiling, offering him a drag.

Marvus accepts, taking a tiny puff. Skylla noticeably relaxes.

Maybe empathy and understanding look like this: one small action, one small compromise, and two people working hard to meet in the middle for the sake of a third.

God, you hope you aren't making an ashen overture here.

...Well, whatever works.

MSPAR: You know, you two have more in common than you think.

MSPAR: Hard working, good sense of humor…

You raise your eyebrow, maybe even give it a wiggle. Skylla looks horrified, as if she knows exactly what you're going to say next. Marvus, for his part, looks about as vaguely interested as he looks about anything.

MSPAR: And I know for a fact you could both give Miss Dolly Parton a run for her money.

Watch the chaos unfold.

Marvus laughs, letting out an enthusiastic "yee-haw motherfuckers!" Which is incredibly sweet of him; you guess you're not the only one who noticed the mounting tension between them.

Skylla finds her resolve, a mischievous smile spreading from cheek to cheek.

Skylla: Was wondering about that soul, cityy boy.

She slaps him lightly on the bicep.

Skylla: Five minutes and I can get my karaoke machine set up and readyy to go.

Skylla: Feel like a challenge?

She elbows him in the ribs.

Marvus: yeah ?

Marvus: think you can take on da hottest slam artist since snoop dogg was horrordained ?

Skylla: Well, I don't know about that.

Skylla: But I think I can take on yyou.

The two of them laugh and brag, and here's your secret: the real thing these two have in common, the real trait you're bringing together?

They both have a competitive side.

Set up the machine.

Skylla fumbles around for a few minutes before you take over.

Skylla: It's been a while.

Skylla: Hope I remember how to do this...

She glances at you nervously. You wink at her before Marvus starts talking.

Marvus: ain't dat hard sis

Marvus: music's that MFin thang we all got up in our soulz

Marvus: ya dig ?

Marvus: nothin to forget cuz its always there :o)

Skylla: That's real nice and all...

Skylla: But I was talking about the machine.

Marvus: ah shizz my bad lol !!

Marvus: meant it, tho

MSPAR: Okay, I think it's all set up.

Spectate.

Marvus and Skylla spend a few minutes negotiating who's going first, what songs and subjects are off the table, etc.

While they talk, you go to Skylla's kitchen and dig up some snacks and what appears to be some beer. You're doing it. You're making tonight happen.

By the time you get back to the newly dubbed Karaoke room (it's just Skylla's living room with the couch pushed back and the center table moved), the two of them are fidgety and ready to go.

Let's get this show on the road.

Sit back while Skylla shows y'all what she's got.

The song opens with the nostalgic whine of an electric guitar, quickly soothed by the subtle percussion of the cymbals and a simple acoustic guitar chord. Marvus leans back in his chair, ears perked forward.

Already, Skylla is tapping her foot and nodding her head. It's difficult to hold yourself back; the music is flowing through you too.

The lyrics start, and Skylla starts with a low twang. Her voice is husky and a little rough around the edges, but she's captivating all the same. She refuses to be shy, singing to you then to Marvus.

All the while, Marvus keeps a running commentary.

Marvus: y'know

Marvus: country music ain't dat different from slamming

Skylla: _She handed me a heart-shaped locket that said, "To thine own self be true."And I shivered as I watched a roach crawl across, The toe of my high-heeled shoe_

Marvus: tho ostensibly we be on exact opposite sides of da hemospecrtum both country style artists and hip hop style artists rly do slam down about tha hi$$$tory and oppression of our respektive castes lol :o)

Marvus: always liked country imagery too

Marvus: i mean who isn't down for grubcakes and big trucks at any fxxking second am i rite ?

Skylla: _That I's gonna be a lady someday, Though I didn't know when or how, But I couldn't see spending the rest of my life, With my head hung down in shame, You know I might have been born just plain bronze blood, But Fancy was my name_

Skylla grows mournful the more she sings; the more you listen to the lyrics, the more you realize the nostalgia is tinged with blues more than bronze twangs.

MSPAR: I think Skylla is saying more than that.

As Skylla finishes the end of her song, she takes her hat off to wipe the sweat from her brow. Marvus offers her a beer, which she gratefully accepts, downing it in big gulps.

Sneak a peek at what song Marvus is choosing.

You crane your neck as subtly as you can, but Marvus's privacy screen protector does its job and does it well.

Instead, you turn your focus to Skylla.

MSPAR: I didn't know you could sing like that!

Skylla: Oh, I'll give anyything a lick and a promise.

She waves her hand dismissively at you, but you don't miss the crinkle of her eyes as she does it.

Marvus: aight letz turn this shizz UPPP !!!

Does he really have to pump you up? You're curious to see how Marvus reacts to an audience of merely two. You know he loves music- his running commentary proved that- but you wonder if he's not really in it for the applause.

The song starts with an old school sample of xylophones before smoothing out with a simple 3/4 beat.

Marvus starts, slower than his normal style. Skylla smiles at his easy demeanor, perhaps not expecting this smooth, slow style from Marvus.

Skylla: Gotta acknowledge the corn here...

She turns to you with a guilty grin.

Skylla: I alwayys thought highbloods only sang about their money or their cars.

As he reaches the chorus, Marvus starts singing in earnest, his voice smooth as he sings one octave up.

Marvus: _Sky is the limit and you know that you keep on, Just keep on pressing on, Sky is the limit and you know that you can have, What you want, be what you want_

MSPAR: They sing about those things, too.

You nudge her.

MSPAR: Just like some country singers sing about their horses and their ranch.

Skylla laughs ruefully next to you.

Marvus: _Your brain was a terrible thing to waste, '88 on gates, snatch initial name plates, Smokin' spliffs with homies, real-life beginner killers, Praying, forgive us for being sinners_

Skylla raises her beer as Marvus finishes.

Marvus: aight so

Marvus leans into you.

Marvus: since you waz tha only one who ain't singing

Marvus: guess ur the judge bud :o)

Oh fuck.

You're not here to judge, but to have fun!

They aren't buying it.

Marvus: come on man :o/

Skylla: Fair's fair.

Okay. Fuck. You sip at your beer to buy some time. Okay. Plan B.

MSPAR: How am I supposed to judge two different genres?

MSPAR: I mean, what am I, a music critic?

They're still for a minute- God, are you going to have to threaten them with Zebruh to get out of this?- before turning to each other and nodding.

Skylla: I can set with that.

Marvus: & you know ya boy's always ready for dat mfin bonus round !!

Uh-oh. The two of them are becoming faster friends than you thought.

Skylla pulls up her phone and plays a new song. You startle once you recognize the lyrics.

Troll Dolly Parton, eat your heart out!

Skylla's smokey vocals bring new depth to the song. You'd never heard the name Jolene said with such fervor. She's really going for it.

Marvus picks up the chorus quick. The two of them make quite the duo: Skylla with her wandering notes and Marvus, with his steady voice to bring her back on track.

During the second chorus, Skylla gives Marvus an expectant look. After a beat, he freestyles.

Marvus: _jolene, yuh, goin where the pasture's green, uh, think i'm blind like i can't see ya, think i'm numb like i can't feel us, You take my rhymes like cold hard distrust, All I'm saying's that I miss us_

It's definitely a challenging new meter for him- Marvus can get wordy- but considering this is an all new genre for him? You'll call it a success.

Join them.

Who would you be if you didn't add a little silly where silly was needed? You jump in. Skylla and Marvus have the singing covered, so you do what you do best. You're flossing, whipping, you even bust out the old school cabbage patch. Skylla square dances with you before passing you to Marvus, who is focused on his footwork.

And you join them for the last rendition of the chorus.

Finish your drink.

Wow, did you really go through that much that quickly?

Skylla and Marvus seem similarly loose. As the song ends, you all join each other in laughter.

Marvus: no fxxking contest homies

Marvus: collabs ain't usually my thing, ya heard ?

Marvus: but dat shizz HIT !!

He holds out his fist again. Triple fist bump: success.

Skylla: Boyy howdyy, I’m plumb roostered.

You stifle a laugh at the turn of phrase; did the country bring out the drink, or did the drink bring out the country?

Suggest a walk.

Skylla brightens, and you realize it wasn’t an entirely innocent suggestion on your part. Watching your friends light up in pride always lights a similar fire within you.

Skylla grabs a key ring- your eyes linger on the half-finished friendship bracelet you made for her a month back- and ushers you forward. Marvus follows, setting his half-finished drink gingerly on a coaster.

The air has cooled as the moons start their descent west-ward. A gentle breeze sends Marvus’s hair towards you, driving electric pulses up your arms where it makes contact. The smell of hay fills your lungs as the gentle susurrus of Skylla’s stock in the grass echos around you. For the first time all day, you feel like you fit nicely into the puzzle of this alien world.

Skylla continues to be a wonderful host. She shows off her barn, explaining all of the techniques she had to learn to build it. Marvus is asking all the right questions; you notice that he is just as good an audience as he is an entertainer.

Walk along the fence.

Skylla drags her hand over the wood that separates you from her herd. She lets out a wistful sigh before Marvus joins her, leaning on the fence.

The three of you must make an odd sight. Skylla’s rolled her sleeves up and left her gloves behind, but her embroidered shirt and well-worn denim jeans scream hard worker. Contrast that with Marvus, in his tank top and sweat pants that, though plain, are expensively cut and meticulously taken care of. And you, in between, are a hodge-podge of all of your friends in varying shades of bougie and broke. In various shades of dirty.

Marvus decides that now is a good time to open his big mouth.

Marvus: you ever think abt how country singers and slam artists both felt subjugated in2 systemizing w/in they castes

Marvus: got to tha point dat caste exclusivity was in fashion

Marvus winks at you, tapping Skylla on the shoulder as he talks

Marvus: tha wicked dismantling of proper language wuz only step one

Marvus: we all took different pathz but tha destination was the same

Marvus: lol turn up am i rite ?

God. You are in no mood for Shrodinger's oppressed clown right now.

Skylla: Can't sayy I have...

Skylla: Wanna meet the herd?

It seems Skylla feels the same.

Wait patiently by the fence.

Skylla clicks her tongue against the roof of her mouth a few times. In the distance, you can hear a distant nicker and the slow scuttle of hooves against dirt.

Skylla: Hope you know your way around a herd, tenderfoot.

Marvus: sure do

Skylla turns to Marvus with an incredulous expression.

Marvus: damn girl what u think we learn at clown school ?

Marvus: only so many wayz to juggle, ya heard ?

The conversation is cut short as a stocky horse shoves their head between you, mouthing at Skylla's pocket.

Skylla: Easyy, Sam.

She laughs as Chunky Sam continues to search for treats. A few cows have approached the fence, slow and cautious but curious all the same.

Skylla scratches along his mane, and Chunky Sam raises his head, lips wiggling in delight.

Skylla: Don't worryy, he knows better than to put his mouth on yyou.

Marvus makes way so you can join Skylla in petting her horse. He seems content to lay his hand on Pete's withers for now. He glances at you as Skylla starts to talk. His eyes are so peaceful, so at ease. The difficulties and awkward moments of the night were all worth it, if this is the end result.

Skylla: Now, Chunkyy Sam's the sweet one, but Sour Pete can show yy'all a trick or two.

On cue, another horse makes his slow way up, pinning his ears at Sam to get dibs on whatever food Skylla might have.

Watch the show.

Skylla makes a big show about turning her back on Sour Pete and crossing her arms. Sour Pete presses his nose to her hat, snorting once before mouthing at the brim. He bites the hat to lift it from Skylla's head and throws it on the ground.

Skylla: Dag nabbit, Pete!

Despite her words, Skylla's tone is playful. It's clear that she's spent some time on this routine with him. Pete, for his part, throws his head up and down in his horsey imitation of laughter. Skylla makes this big show about picking up her hat and dusting it off, putting it squarely on Marvus's head this time. She points a stern finger at Pete before turning her back on him again.

Marvus, as expected, takes his cue just as well as Pete did, a smile on his face. You snort; Skylla's going to have him well trained by the end of the night.

Pete, more slowly this time, mouths at the brim of the hat before pushing it down over Marvus's face. The hat gets caught in his horns, and Skylla stiffens momentarily.

But when Marvus get untangled, he's laughing, and Skylla smiles, too.

Marvus: dam lol

Marvus: i feel right at home w u, bud

He's talking to the horse and not Skylla, as evident by his fond pats to Pete’s neck, but that's okay. You understand that clowning is a part of Marvus that he can't turn off.

Skylla nudges you, thrilled that her trick was a success. She lowers her voice, speaking only to you.

Skylla: If yyou reallyy want to get him to feel the countryy spirit...

Skylla pauses, gathering her courage and stifling some laughter.

Skylla: I got some assless chaps in the barn.

[GOOD END](restart)

...Or maybe not. This is the kind of boredom that lingers with a person; you doubt you would make pleasant company right now. Friendship, for once, is off the table.

That doesn't mean you can't immerse yourself in the spirit, though. Throughout your friendly endeavors, you've amassed a huge amount of gifts, junk, and cast-offs.

Shuffle through your hive.

It's easy to categorize all of your favorites. Skylla's mug. Stelsa's personalized calendar. Tagora's espresso machine. A book from…

Oh, now what's this?

Examine mysterious book.

You flip it in your hands a few times, examining the cover art. Some old-timey dude stares back at you in anguish. Mood. Maybe that look stems from the drab beige of his surrounding cover art.

It's not like you can read the title; Tyzias's alphabet lessons had to be put on hold for a group project she's working on. You run your hands over the cover. Feels like fabric. Upon closer examination, this book was well-loved before you found it. Thumbprints darken the corners. Dust clings to the pages as if they were secrets waiting to be revealed.

You know very well what this means. This isn't just a book.

This is a plot device.

Find some trolls with some free time.

Just like that, friendship is back on the table. You’re about to indulge in a four-course friend feast.

You post a quick message to your private chittr: friends only book club at your hive, two hours from now.

It hits you that you're supposed to have trays of fancy sandwiches, or finger foods. Grasper grub? You glance around at your hive, eying the single chair with its broken leg. You’ll need some more places to sit, too.

For all of your faults, at least you can pride yourself on being a very adequate host. Excellent, even.

Set up for your book club.

Look at this! Just 15 minutes after posting your little announcement and you're already feeling some excitement. Who's going to show up? What books will they bring?

As you set up little piles of cushions for your guests, you're struck by memories of getting absorbed in a good story. You close your eyes and get lost. How many fantasy worlds have you gotten lost in?

Some days, you feel like you’re living a fantasy story in real-time.

Make some snacks.

You are not, in any sense of the word, well equipped for this task. You glance at your stove; a spark flashes from the exposed wires as if it knows exactly what you're thinking.

Sandwiches it is. You've been living off of the troll equivalent to PB&J. It's well past time that your friends get a little taste of human culture.

You're busy gentrifying an American staple, cutting your sandwiches into tiny rectangles, when your first visitor shows up.

Play it cool.

Only cool dudes let their friends know how happy they are to see them. Bronya and Lynera stand politely outside your doorway, peering inside while pretending not to peer inside. Seeing them standing there, you realize that calling it a doorway at all feels disingenuous. Greeting hole, maybe.

You saunter up to the doorway with all the charm you can muster. You greet them with a very cool _hello!_ Then you throw your arms around Bronya in a bear hug. Her fond giggling sets your mood soaring. Lynera bristles before you give her the same treatment, Lynera style. A loose side hug has never felt so... sharp and pointy. But for all that, you notice the bud of a smile on her face.

MSPAR: Thank you both so much for coming.

Hosting? Going so well you can't even believe it. Look at you, busting out the polite voice and the polite words. Your hands are itching to pour them a nice glass of water, maybe make some tea. Perhaps you should apologize for the mess despite the two hours of cleaning you invested.

Bronya brings her hand up to her chin as she looks around.

Bronya: Oh dear. Are we the first ones to arrive?

Lynera: -i told you this was a bad idea

Lynera's shoulders reach up towards her ears.

Lynera: -did you even do a background check on the trolls coming here today?

Bronya places a comforting hand on Lynera's shoulder. This seems to have the opposite effect; Lynera straightens like a bolt of lightning is shooting straight up her spine.

Bronya: vV I think we can relax, Lyn. Vv

Lynera crumples under the force of her apparent nickname. So powerful is the sudden rush of flattery that it has her adjusting her glasses like the love interest in a rom-com. Cute.

Bronya: 1. Daraya promised to look after the caverns today 2. The brood isn't scheduled to hatch until next wipe 3...

Bronya leans into you conspiratorially, smiling a wide and secret smile. Lynera's still tense beside her, but she has turned into your little circle with a hesitant smile.

Bronya: ...we locked Lanque in the study caves.

The three of you laugh. You, spitefully; Bronya, quietly, as if she knows she shouldn't be laughing but can't help it; and Lynera, nervously, but perhaps more genuinely than you or Bronya.

MSPAR: Speaking of locked in...

MSPAR: I think it's good for you two to have a day off.

MSPAR: But why leave Daraya in charge? Isn't Lanque older?

Bronya and Lynera share a significant glance.

Lynera: -did you really invite us over to make jokes at us like some kind of...

Lynera: -some kind of ! clown !

Though you've come to associate that tone of voice and particular grimace with expressions of rage from Lynera, you get the sense that she is the one joking like some kind of clown.

Bronya: vV Daraya has been more than capable of stepping in lately! Vv

Bronya: 1. She's been talking more and more about her future 2. She's been kinder and more patient with the grubs 3. She's been talking to someone on the phone and... laughing...

Bronya stops listing things off of her fingers to look away with a look of distracted thoughtfulness. That is definitely the "cool mom realizes her teenage daughter might be dating" look.

Lynera: -four: lanque !! fucking sucks !! at leadership

Bronya laughs; so do you, despite the very, very genuine vitriol in Lynera's voice.

Bronya: There is that.

Talk turns to books. Bronya brought a biography of a famous rainbow drinker, titled Daybreak. She gushes about the subtle plot about how jadebloods struggle, but you can tell it's just Twilight. Lynera brought a romance novel that she reads for the engaging plot.

They are, when you break down the plots, the same book in different shades of smut.

Just then, you hear lumbering footsteps, quickly approaching.

Turn around.

Here's hoping that this troll brought some books more to your taste. And not books about murder. It would be really nice to not have to deal with being murdered/ the subject of murder.

Your hopes are dashed when Chahut ducks through your greeting hole.

Chahut: hey liTTle one

She ruffles your hair and goes straight for your sandwiches, throwing her books on the table almost as an afterthought. Lynera and Bronya pass you identical, stricken looks.

God, this is awkward. Sometimes you forget that not everyone deals with the insatiable pull of friendship like you do.

Oh, and the killer clowns, caste divide thing. You forgot about that, too.

You leaf through the books Chahut brought, hoping to connect these two unrelated groups of trolls. Judging by the covers- teal and gray, lots of implied violence- these are murder mysteries and psychological thrillers.

Chahut ambles over to Lynera and gently pries her book from Lynera's limp grasp. You half expect her to shut Lynera's gaping mouth for her, but it seems that even jesters have manners.

Chahut: redrom, huh?

Chahut: never did like barker's work much

Chahut: always been more of a piTch girl myself

Lynera bristles.

Lynera: -perhaps you should learn some subtlety

Lynera: -mordens a master

Lynera: -not all red romance is red thorn stalk petals and lit wicked wax pillars

Chahut: Thank The messiahs

Chahut smiles a lazy smile down at Lynera. Lynera only bristles more.

Lynera: -some romance ! doesn't work out !

Lynera: -some romance !! hurts like hell !!

Chahut: preach iT, sisTer

Lynera: -and if you would take the time to read it you would notice themes of unrequited love

Chahut: hiTs a liTTle close to home, im guessin

Lynera brings her hand to her chest, shocked and offended broadcast through a simple gesture.

Lynera: -w...

Lynera - !! what makes you say that !!

Chahut: peace and gospel, girl

Chahut: im only jokin

Chahut: iT mighT be worTh my while To read ouTside of my scope of experience

Chahut smiles her closest approximation of a kindly smile down at Lynera. What an elegant way to say nobody's ever rejected her. You have to give Chahut props for that one.

Bronya comes up to you while they're discussing themes and metaphors and lurid, purple prose. Chahut is mostly humoring Lynera, shooting you amused glances here and there.

Bronya: I think Lynera reads too many tragedies.

She shoots you a sad smile, oblivious to Lynera's obvious crush on her.

MSPAR: It's great that she's here, then.

MSPAR: Maybe we can expand her horizons!

Bronya: vV Hopefully we can expand her friends list, too. Vv

Charun: Are you going to eat that...?

What the hell.

Greet Charun.

Charun gestures to the uneaten sandwich in Chahut's hand. They ignore the full platter of sandwiches right in front of them.

Maybe this was a bad idea.

Play damage control.

You prepare to rush forward, ready to unleash a little of your infamous, alien compromise. Failing that, you have to jades prepared to be thoroughly and devastatingly neutral about the whole thing. But Chahut shrugs and hands her sandwich over.

God, you can't believe PBJ is going to be your downfall. Your heart is racing a mile a minute.

Charun walks away with their sandwich and opens up their book. Bronya glances at you. Guess you're the common denominator here.

...You know, in retrospect: you're almost positive this isn't how book clubs work.

Agonize about your status as a host.

You're a helicopter and your Jesus nut is about to fly off the fucking bolt. You're going down, you're yelling timber. Chahut laughs at something; you hear the rustling of Lynera's skirt. You close your eyes and for one blissful moment, you don't exist.

When you come to, Charun is offering their half-eaten sandwich to you with the same look of bored gravitas they give everything.

Charun: Never considered interpretive dance.....

Oh lord, were you really flailing around that badly?

Charun pauses for a good minute, eyes scanning the page in front of them.

Charun: Worked pretty well........... Maybe I should try that....

Charun: You got out of that social dystopia pretty quick, huh....?

They tear out a page from their book. "-n summary, extreme unity leads to under-stimulation, extreme complexity leads to over-stimulation. Harmony is a dyna-" The rest is stained by cyan paint. What the hell are they reading, a self-care book? They tilt the yellow and black cover towards you. Color Theory for Dummies.

Charun: I think the dummies got it right..

MSPAR: Yeah.

MSPAR: Dumbass rights!

They laugh. You take a little bite of food and glance up at the girls.

Charun remains oblivious, folding pieces of paper into little squares and triangles. They arrange this on the ground before a gust of wind catches them.

The two of you watch, mesmerized, before a familiar voice starts talking.

Stand up.

_  
_  
_  
_  
_  
_  
_  
_

Vikare: ~Tally-ho and good ev-

Vikare ducks through your greeting hole, stops abruptly, and then glances around. He eyes the girls, still deep in discussion. He adjusts his goggles and glances towards you (still slowly rising) and Charun (still seated and folding their papers). A few folded pages blow their way into Vikare's face, but he bats them out of his way without a glance.

Vikare: ~I do hope these dames aren't giving you the rhubarb too badly, old chap~

Vikare: ~For a meeting of the minds should serve to do just that!~

Vikare leans in and whispers at you.

Vikare: ~A distant klaxon, calling to all the thrill of dialectical riposte~

God, talk about the absolute best person to have in a book club. If anyone can make dry text even more inscrutable, it's Vikare.

MSPAR: So, what’s your klaxon of choice?

Vikare turns toward you, standing tall. From within a bag on his back- good lord how many books did he bring- he pulls out a familiar blue book.

The two of you say the title together: Ender's Game.

Vikare: ~Endehr's Game is just killer diller~

Vikare: ~Oh, to possess that moxie to lead my fellows toward certain peace and victory in the great blanket of the stars!~

Vikare: ~But I won't give you the whole megillah, pal-o~

Vikare: ~Such adventure awaits you betwixt these pages~

You decide not to tell Vikare that Ender was coerced into being the hero he never wanted to be. Hey, maybe empathy is something that we come to understand at our own pace, you're not here to judge.

Charun: I didn't know you were into astrology...

You and Vikare turn to look back at Charun, now balancing the little folded papers on top of one another.

Vikare: ~Not astrology, chum, but astronomy~

Vikare: ~My friend and I here both share a furtive passion of...~

Vikare turns to look at you. Is it just your imagination, or is he winking?

__Vikare: ~_...flight~_

Charun: The only thing our friend and I share is a furtive passion for breaking..

Charun glances up, then back down, focused on their project.

Charun: And entering...

Just then you get a text message. A simple "hey," which strikes you as foreboding. But you're kind of tangled up in this whole "juggling-your-friends" situation. You're wrapped in strings of fate and fury like some kind of horribly fucked up fately bondage session.

Bring all of your friends together.

God, you almost forgot about your book. It is with a heavy heart you must admit that you are probably about to learn some more fucked up facts about troll culture.

With a grave silence, you pull your dusty beige tome from its strategically placed spot on your bookshelves. You even blow some dust from the cover to really drive this vibe home.

It's met with varying expressions. Lynera glares at you, saying you should take better care of your books. Bronya brings a worried hand to her mouth, glancing around to watch how everyone else reacts. Charun raises a brow and Chahut's eyes look like you just squeezed her with force around her middle.

It’s silent. Awkwardly silent. Vikare leans in, whispering to you.

Vikare: ~Now who's that bimbo with the bubs?~

You glance down at the figure etched onto your book. He's not particularly good looking, a little scraggly in your opinion, and he definitely doesn't look vapid. And he definitely doesn't have anything that you would describe as an ample bosom.

Just then, you hear measured footsteps coming toward you.

Oh, God. Another member of your incredibly cursed book club.

Marvus: hey :o)

Greet Marvus.

Marvus: dam

Marvus: never knew u could read buddy lol

...You can't. You frown to convey this.

Chahut: _where_ on alTernia did you find a copy of The odyssea?

Bronya fidgets with her skirt, before raising a finger. It seems that she's shifted from "this is bad, I'm in trouble" to "this is a teachable moment!"

Bronya: vV Finding a banned book is a big deal! Vv

Bronya: 1. You shouldn't have it under any circumstance 2. You shouldn't read it-

Lynera: -three: you really shouldn't !! show it off !!

Lynera brings her hand to her chest, mouth agog.

Lynera: -you could seriously !!! get killed !!!

Lynera: -you could seriously !!! get us all killed !!!

She glances significantly at... well, everyone. Trust isn't high on Lynera's register.

Vikare: ~Oh, applesauce!~

Vikare honest to God stomps his foot at the lot of you.

Lynera turns to Vikare with a glare so sharp you instinctively shield yourself from the blood spray.

Vikare: ~Who among us can say they haven't thought about humping the old swag and setting off, off, and away?~

Marvus: word lol

Marvus: buttt my boy odysseus wuz heading home, homez

Marvus: who among us can't say _dat_ lol

Oh God. Debate explodes out of all of your friends like soup in a microwave. Even you are starting to feel hot, disturbed, and kind of moist.

Lynera: -if he had stayed home and ! attended his duties ! in the first pla-

Bronya: There is something to be said for a little perspective on your own speci-

God damn it. Leave it to Marvus to start some shit just to watch it unfold.

Chahut grows taller as everyone speaks around her. You whisper over to Marvus.

MSPAR: This isn't heresy, is it?

Marvus: nah cuz

Marvus: it's hi$$$tory lol

Charun: ......

Charun: I'm pretty sure the odyssea never happened..

Chahut: "how shameless— The way these morTals blame The messiahs..."

Chahut: sounds real enough To me

Chahut has her hands folded in front of her. Good lord, she's in her preacher on bath salts pose.

Oh God. Fuck.

Gain control of the situation.

This is spinning wildly out of control. All of your friends are starting to raise their voices and if you don't act fast, fingers are going to be pointing with wild abandon.

Remember Charun’s color theory

Make yourself the center of attention

You stand taller. A quiet hush descends upon the room. You channel the spirit you felt that first time Chahut took you to church. From every cell of your body, you do your best to emit the enlightenment you're about to serve. Hell, if you can rile up a room full of religious zealots, how hard will it be to calm down a room full of your fervent friends? For good measure, you channel a little bit of Bronya's vibe to make sure nobody feels really angry with you.

You start speaking, surreptitiously sneaking glances at the scrap of paper in your hand.

MSPAR: I understand we are all feeling some tension. And too much tension-

You glance at the paper.

MSPAR: *Ahem* Too much _complexity_ can cause overstimulation.

MSPAR: But discussion is good! Because...

Another glance.

MSPAR: Too much unity leads to under-stimulation.

You stand tall, drawing yourself up to your full height.

MSPAR: How about some harmony? Let's find that harmony baby!

Everyone's jaw drops. Yes. You're killing this. Bob Ross wants what you have. If only you knew what the hell you're talking about.

Silence compounds between you like a spring laden with g's upon g's of tension. Marvus, unsurprisingly, speaks first.

Marvus: :o/

Marvus: u rly gonna be a centrist abt dis ?

Bronya: I'm all for neutrality, but _seriously…_

Chahut just straight up leaves. Uh-oh.

Soon enough, all of your friends are packing up to leave. Lynera gives you a sympathetic look, understanding how cutting it is when Bronya is dismissive of you. Marvus pats you on the shoulder as he leaves.

Charun: Here..

Charun leaves their Color Theory For Dummies book with you. Ah, they've scratched out the title, save for _Dummie._

Guess you just got dummy political. If only the clap of your common sense would have alerted your heart.

**BAD END**

Everyone is squabbling. You're surrounded on all sides by bloodthirsty, fired up trolls. This is it. Your time to shine.

MSPAR: I can't read.

Quiet descends upon the room as if you’ve changed the channel too far up and hit static. Chahut lays a sympathetic hand upon your shoulder.

In truth, you knew the title started with "O," that's one of the letters you do remember. You're just out of practice, that's all.

Chahut: you know you're always welcome aT casTechism

Charun: ...

Charun: Why did you hold a book club if you can't read..?

Lynera: -don't be rude!

Bronya: vV There are many alternatives to reading books! Vv

Bronya: 1. You can listen to audiobooks 2. You can watch movie adaptations 3. You can invite your friends over to read out loud with you.

Lynera gives you a sympathetic glance. Bronya is making a sympathetic smile. Marvus is sympathetically glancing at his palmhusk instead of at you. You can't quite tell what expression Vikare is making through the goggles, but you can take a wild fucking guess.

The vibe has been utterly ruined. Well, at least nobody is pissed with you.

Let this club fizzle out.

One by one, your friends fizzle out, with a promise here and a farewell there. All of them...

...save for an unexpected two.

Turn around.

Vikare is holding a conversation with Marvus, of all people.

Vikare: ~A worldly egg, aren’t you?~

Marvus: sumn like dat

Marvus: ain’t no egg tho bruh

Marvus: one hundred percent adult, feel me ?

Marvus winks at Vikare. Vikare tilts his head, confused with Marvus’s figure of speech.

Vikare: ~Let’s keep our graspers to ourselves, thank you.~

Vikare places his hands on his hips, disapprovingly tilting his head. Marvus visibly startles. You can’t tell if it’s because Vikare seems immune to his charm or if, like you, he has no idea what Vikare means.

Vikare: ~So tell me.~

Vikare: ~What draws you to the deep, turbulent depths of Homer’s Odyssea?~

Vikare: ~The intrigue? The call of adventure?~

Vikare leans in, a sly glint to his goggles.

Vikare: ~The themes of justice wrought by a divine hand?~

Marvus: brother i can tell u all about a divine hand LOL !

Vikare: ~Ah, the religious sort, are you?~

Vikare: ~Personally I’d rather not hem the seam on religious subtext here.~

Why’d he bring it up then? Both of them are showing tells of discomfort in their own way. You see it in the tilt of Vikare’s posture, his hands steady and unmoving on his hips. You see it in the slow steps Marvus makes as he paces around.

You have got to get them out of here.

Marvus: natch

Vikare: ~Yes. Natch.~

Conversation fizzles out. Again. They're both tilting their heads at each other, confused. You're getting a sick, twisted sort of justice from watching the two people with the two hardest vernaculars to parse dealing with each other instead of you.

But you know your duty as a friend here.

MSPAR: You’re both free to leave.

Vikare: ~Oh, of course.~

Vikare relaxes. You suspect he was trying not to be rude by leaving you alone in the wake of your disastrous get together.

Vikare guides you to the door with him.

Vikare: ~You gave a valiant effort with your club~

Vikare: ~Shall I stay until he leaves?~

Vikare nods his head towards Marvus.

Vikare: ~A cake eater, that one~

Marvus mutters under his breath.

Vikare: ~If you’d like me to stay…~

You confirm that that’s not necessary, and send Vikare on his way.

Now to deal with Marvus.

Turn around.

Marvus stands at your stove, lighting a- oof, you get a whiff of something spicy and deep- spliff, judging by the smell.

Marvus: dam lol

Marvus: gotta say that was real brave of you cuz

He walks over to your window and sits down on the counter.

Marvus: busting out da banned books on day 1 LOL !

He pushes open one of your windows with force. It rattles open with a loud clatter.

Marvus: anywayz

Marvus: the odyssea ain't even philosophy, ya dig ?

Marvus: just a story :o)

Marvus: && if u want a _real_ story you should tune in2 mtv next week.

He sticks his head out the window and blows a plume of smoke.

Marvus: my ep of hivez is dropping at 8pm (7pm plains time), ya heard ?

Nervously clean up.

Marvus chatters on about his recent episode of MTV Hivez, putting out his spliff halfway through so he can let out words instead of smoke. To you, it's the same; he's so absorbed in stories about reality TV that he's not really saying anything that registers to you as substantial. In the meantime, you straighten up. You made too many sandwiches. Maybe that's where this all went wrong.

After straightening up, you have enough nervous momentum to keep you going. The stove seems to be behaving; maybe you should make some lunch in earnest.

Meanwhile, Marvus’s mouth continues to prattle on without him.

Marvus: and BRUH you should have seen dat shizz they tried fitting my fat azz in

Marvus: calling me mr pizzazz

Marvus: catching me with that glamor in the spandex pants

He starts laughing. You get the sense that even he has no idea what the hell he’s talking about.

And even though you recognize your bad mood, and you recognize that he sees it too, you continue on like nothing's wrong. Honestly, you have no idea what's bothering you, and you don't intend to dwell on it.

Marvus: yo wats up ?

Marvus: u said i was free 2 leave

Marvus: and i said i'm free to stay

Marvus: soooo tell me str8-

You interrupt him before he inadvertently hits on the subject of your waning energy.

MSPAR: Hungry?

Marvus: yeah cuz i could eat :o)

He stands in the middle of your dingy kitchen, his right hand on his cane-sword and his left writing something on Stelsa's calendar.

Figure out dinner.

It's time to focus on the hardest subject of the night: what the hell do you cook the man who has, theoretically, everything?

Well. You have a staggering amount of different coffee beans, thanks to Tagora and Galekh attempting to outdo each other with the friendly gift-giving. A box of protein shake mix courtesy of Nihkee. Some fresh veggies that Stelsa brought over once, with the intention of cooking. Unfortunately, she had a test take more time than she expected and she had to reschedule. You have various snacks and breakfast foods tucked away.

The only thing that really ties these ingredients together is hope. Hope that you can make something edible.

And hope that Marvus isn’t an obligate carnivore.

Start dinner.

After turning the oven on- which is always a fiasco, you’re already covered in soot and you haven’t even started cooking yet -you grab your cutting board and start chopping up some veggies. Right now, you feel a deep kinship with the weird, pink Alternian carrots. You, too, feel cut up in many different pieces, spread thin between your own needs and your hungry friends.

Marvus comes up behind you. You guess in his world, watching and critiquing is what he considers helping.

Marvus: damn lol

Marvus: wtf is that homie

Marvus: looking kinda chunkyyy over here ;o)

Marvus: just saying

Marvus: might be easier if u start slow

He wraps his arms beside your waist, grabbing your hands and physically slowing you down. With his guidance, you cube a golden root vegetable, not unlike a turnip, into even, equal-sized chunks.

Marvus: shiet look at dat !

Marvus: we could get u your own cooking show, bud !

He pulls back, framing an invisible title with squared fingers.

Marvus: cooking wit tha alternian alien

Marvus: almost like tha sound of dat

MSPAR: The flavors are _out of this world._

Marvus chuckles. You place your sheet of veggies, freshly oiled and salt/peppered,

in the oven.

Marvus: they got ur _launch_ covered

MSPAR: If you’re too busy for meals this week, let me help you _planet._

The two of you dissolve into giggles as you set the coffee maker. Marvus grabs you by the shoulder and shakes some tension out of you.

Eat.

Your meal comes together slowly. Marvus continues helping by mostly staying out of your way and telling you you're doing things wrong from afar.

But finally, your dinners are served. Roasted veggies, accompanied by a bowl of colorful cereal, cheddar chex mix scattered at the edge of the plate for more color, and finished off with two cups of coffee, freshly brewed.

You eat in silence; you’re still not really sure what’s bothering you, except that you feel tilted left and the world feels tilted right.

Marvus does his best to engage you, making faces and twisting his head to make you laugh. By the time you’re cleaning up, he’s practically his own three stooges.

He sits back up on your counter, looking out the window, and finishes up the rest of his spliff.

Watch him.

His hair is tousled by a stray gust of wind. His eyes are far away, not focused enough to be studying the landscape. Nevertheless, his expression is sharp and his facepaint is luminous in the lights of the moons. His mouth curves as he forms the words.

Marvus: ay bud

He smites the rest of his spliff then throws the butt out of the window.

Marvus: im here for ya ears, baby

Marvus: if u wanted a maid, i got that

Marvus: get this shizz wicked clean, on jah

Marvus: but rite now i need your ass present and paying me my fxxking dues

You raise an eyebrow at him. What the hell is he talking about, payment for what?

Marvus: want your attention, ya dig ?

Marvus: so say sumn

Marvus: or listen to me, give me dirty looks, itz all good to me babe

MSPAR: Yeah, I know how you are.

MSPAR: All eyes on you.

He smirks, tilting his head as he considers you.

Marvus: natch

He jumps down from the counter.

Marvus: nahh tho don't let tha haterz get u down lol

Marvus: noticed u was upset about sumn

He grabs you by the forearm, spinning you slowly. He steps you forward, and he steps you back. Maybe this is some troll reiki energy pulling or some shit. The fuck?

But before you have time to dwell on it, you're falling backwards.

Land.

You land with a soft plop onto the pile of cushions you set up earlier. Marvus descends slowly next to you like a leaf falling from a tree. It's so graceful he looks otherworldly, as if gravity simply doesn't affect him. Once he sits, he sends his legs forward in front of him with a groan.

He lays back, his head on his hands.

Marvus: so

Marvus: wats up

He looks over to you from his position on the floor and winks at you.

Marvus: _sumns_ got you twisted

Marvus: letz get it out babe

Marvus: & then we can get back to me

MSPAR: Your favorite subject.

He tilts his head, winking at you. You smile back.

Marvus: damn str8

God. Something is clicking into place. He's asking about your feelings. He's completely relaxed. You're in a pile.

Together.

Fuck. Are you reading this right? Is this even what you want?? The words spill out of you before you can realize it's you who's even speaking.

MSPAR: I just thought they would be over it by now.

You lay the knuckles of your hand against his bicep. His tank top is more modest than usual, but his skin is still tempting and soft beneath your knuckles.

Marvus: word ?

Marvus: wym tho

MSPAR: The... pity!

MSPAR: Just because I'm a different species doesn't mean I can't hold my own here.

MSPAR: I'm still figuring things out and I'm doing it mostly on my own.

MSPAR: If I wanted their help, I would have asked for it. I _have_ asked for it!

Marvus: shizz is rough man i'm sorry

Marvus: u said u wish they was over it

Marvus: buuut....

Marvus: are _you_ ?

MSPAR: What?

Marvus: js

Marvus: itz still all new for u

Marvus: you kno

Marvus: pity's bout as close as most trolls get to love

You snort.

It's harsh. It's definitely a little cruel, considering the tentative intimacy of this tenuous space in the maybe/maybe not pale romance pile thing. But maybe you're a little jealous! The people who love him the most are the people he knows the least about. And maybe, well...

Pity's never suited you.

Apologize.

You open your mouth to apologize. Marvus cuts you off with a snort of his own.

Marvus: i kno it sounds crazy

Marvus: but i'm a musician :o)

Marvus: and a damn good one 2 ;o)

Marvus: love's da big sell-ah, tha money gett-ah

Marvus: our hearts is mixing shizz all up just like that carburett-ah

Marvus: itz exxxplosive, ya dig ?

He sings this last part. The two of you laugh for a minute before he continues.

Marvus: i'm just saying

Marvus: you learn some shizz in the biz

He grabs your hand from where it's resting noncommittally on his shoulder. He laces his fingers with yours and pulls your hands up to his mouth, kissing you softly on each knuckle.

You flush, hiding your face in his side.

MSPAR: So I guess you'll understand when I say...

MSPAR: I'm not sure I want this?

He starts to pull away, but you cling to him.

MSPAR: I mean, I guess I'm not really sure what _this_ is.

Marvus waves his hand derisively through the air.

Marvus: it's all wack, mang

Marvus: flushed, pale, ashen ?

Marvus: those are just names for feelings, u kno ?

Marvus: n some feelings ain't got a name

MSPAR: So like...

You lay flat on your back, head spinning, heart full.

MSPAR: How do you...

Marvus sits up, looking down at you.

MSPAR: ...figure it out?

His hair falls around his shoulders, hiding the two of you away from the world.

If only for a moment.

Stare.

How can you help it? His eyes are so clear. So soft. The planes of his face are a symphony; the quiet quirk of his mouth, the crescendo of his sharp cheekbones, the arpeggio of his chin to jaw to temple line.

He's beautiful and he's coming straight towards you.

The first press of his lips to yours feels far away. You've felt more emotion from biting into a peach, which isn't too different from this sensory experience. If the peach was painted. His face paint leaves a metallic, chalky taste behind on your mouth. Gross.

You try again. With your hand behind his head, you pull him in and kiss him again. At your touch, he lets out a sigh and kisses you deeper, the line of his mouth against your lower lip and his teeth pressing into the skin beside it.

MSPAR: Why did you come to my book club?

Marvus: i really

He kisses you.

Marvus: really

He kisses you.

Marvus: like

He kisses you

Marvus: homer's work babe

Marvus: named my lusus after him

You pull away to laugh

MSPAR: You're telling me-

He kisses you on the cheek.

MSPAR: "Homie" is short for "Homer?"

Marvus: ya :o)

Marvus: wat, u thot he was one of the boyz ?

Laugh together.

Marvus lies down beside you again, pulling you close.

MSPAR: No, really.

MSPAR: Why'd you come here?

Marvus: real talk ?

Marvus: idk lol

Marvus: guess i just like talkin 2 you

He wiggles under your weight, uncomfortable with so much honesty.

You lay your head on his shoulder, exhaustion from your day catching up from you. He starts to speak softly.

Marvus: _sing in me, muse, and thru me tell da story of that troll skilled in all wayz of contending, the wanderer…_

You smile, closing your eyes. If anything, you may finally be learning to read him.

**GOOD END**

Check your chittr feed, just in case something's happened in the past 5 minutes.

You scroll- mind blank, head empty- absorbing nothing.

Not exactly proactive. Even your targeted ads are more interesting than your friends right now: distressed denim. A little on the nose; you're the distressed one, the denim is you.

Pace around websites like an under-stimulated zoo animal.

You check out a few recommended videos from grubtube. You go back to chittr. Do you even feel like fighting with the 280 character limit right now?

Even your internal monologue lacks teeth.

Hey, a new ad!

Wow, has Alternia corrupted this much? Are you seeking the cold claws of capitalism out of some desperate sense of familiarity?

God damn, you need some stimulation.

But, to be fair, this new ad stopped you in your tracks. A single hood, no sleeves or body or anything to tie it to the fashion industry save for the fabric it’s made of.

Briefly, you're entertained by the logistics of it. Do troll horns shred up their hoods so much that they need regular replacements? Is this high fashion? You have no idea what you've been searching for that targets you as the high-fashion type.

Bust out the photochop.

It's time for you to make a chittr post of your own. 280 character limit, don your fighting gloves. You’re coming in punching with a hard right.

You do a quick edit; it's easy to find a picture of you at just the right angle and then to photoshop the hood onto your head.

Yeah, high fashion baby. You're bad and boujee now.

Sit back and wait for the instant validation.

Hell yeah, the likes are rolling in. As an alien, you've become something of a local curiosity; you'd never get this much clout for something this mundane on earth.

For a moment, you ask yourself: who the hell are you?

But the moment passes when, at 69 likes, Mallek comments "nice;" from his public account.

The warm glow of friendship, _real friendship,_ fills you from within. Yes. This is exactly who you are. Kuprum posts another photochopped picture of you, your features subtly resized and with slutty boots to complete the look. His edit is immaculate; yours looks juvenile in comparison. Wanshi comments, "[] Looks cool! Want to come over to play soldier purrbeasts? Karako is at catechism today, so it’s okay if you’re star caste this time oWo []"

At 420 likes, Marvus DMs you. With an image attachment.

I thought this thing was rated T...?

Marvus: didnt kno u was into high fashion baby LOL

Marvus: check it !

The attached image file is of Marvus wearing the same hood you were advertised earlier. Ah, those targeted ads make sense now. Of course they picked up on your _love for friends_ center in your brain. Your Amigodala. Your Cerepallum. Briefly, you wonder if biomaterial is more insidious than the tech you have back home. Is it possible your phone was able to pick up more than just your search habits? Hormones or something? The subtle taste of your emotions?

You look back to Marvus in his hood and denim jacket and pounds upon pounds of gold jewelry. He pulls it off. He pulls everything off.

MSPAR: I can't believe you pulled it off so well!

MSPAR: No wonder your brand is so successful when you’re the one running it.

MSPAR: Just wondering...

MSPAR: How much photochopping did it take to remove the silly?

Marvus: sorry babe all of its fake af

Marvus: aint nothin real bout celeb lyfe

Marvus: my editorz be mfin miracle workers

Marvus: but even they cant take the silly outta tha clown :o)

Sit back and let Marvus talk.

Someone's chatty tonight.

Marvus: dam tho thatz kinda deep LOL

Marvus: u kno

Marvus: i been thinking about my wicked $$$tatus as a purple performer

Marvus: authenticity sells u kno ?

Marvus: but 2 much authenticity + 2 big 2 fit in tha box = out of character to my mfin masses

Marvus: & im not talkin bout the onez on my chest ;o)

MSPAR: Bet you're not talking about church either.

Marvus: dam str8

Marvus: always gotta strike that heinous fxxkin balance between wuts right for me

Marvus: & whatz right for my brand

MSPAR: Wow

MSPAR: You're going stir crazy too, huh?

Marvus: LOL !!

Marvus: ya buddy u caught me

Marvus: meet me downtown

Play it cool.

Pretty presumptuous of Marvus to assume you can just drop everything to meet him on a whim. Maybe you're too busy. Maybe you should make him work for it.

MSPAR: Omg yes please 🥺

Nailed it.

MSPAR: You have no idea how bored I am.

Marvus: LOL

Marvus: ya i might have sum idea

Marvus: u got me waxing fxxking introspective

Marvus: hitting u hard and heavy with those kung-fu FACTZ

Marvus: letz lighten it tf up !!!

Marvus: meet me here :o)

Marvus sends you a location on goregle maps. It's a laundromat from what you can tell. Speaking of silly motherfuckers, is Marvus about to pull a SpongeBob on you? You may be bored, but not nearly bored enough to watch the dryers spin.

Take the scuttlebus.

Downtown is as frantic and disorienting as it always is. Every corner is populated by groups of trolls or vendors hawking their wares. You walk through the flow of trolls walking en masse to where the fuck ever, neither a part of the crowd nor opposing it.

You are conspicuously alone.

Check goregle maps again.

Nope. Still sending you to the same location. Laundry day it is, then.

The crowd slowly thins around you. The highblood part of town is sparse in comparison to the city but inversely more dangerous. So far, your status as an Alternian curiosity has kept you safe. But proximity to Marvus is always a wildcard. Get too close and you risk being slaughtered by his fans. Get too far away and you risk more of the same.

You take your time, slaloming through marble pillars and stopping to admire fountains. It's easy to get lost here; what can you say! Hedonism on this scale is hypnotizing, especially for someone like you.

Arrive at your destination.

Goregle Maps gives you a spray of confetti when you arrive at your destination. Typical, and foreboding. Any spot frequented by clowns and jesters gets this special treatment.

You look down at your goregle maps. You look up to the building in front of you.

Holy fucking shit.

Whoever took the picture for goregle did not do this place justice. Could you have fallen prey to some propaganda? _Highbloods do laundry just like you filthy lowbloods do._

This is no laundromat. With a first floor reaching roughly sixteen feet high, this place is filled wall to wall with more fabrics in more colors and patterns than you've ever tried to imagine.

There are, to be fair, washing and drying machines hidden along the back wall.

As you stand, marveling in the doorway, Marvus comes up behind you.

Marvus: sup cuz :o)

With his greeting, he pushes you into the shop with a gentle palm between your shoulders.

Gawk, gape, and generally flounder.

MSPAR: What are we doing here? What even is _here?_

Marvus looks down at you with an indulgent smile.

MSPAR: I thought you were taking me to a laundromat.

Marvus: wtfs a laundromat ?

MSPAR: Never mind.

Your admission comes out more sheepish than you'd like to admit. Breaking eye contact with him to glance around doesn't help.

Marvus: welllll we could go to tha "laundromat" if u want

He makes air quotes around laundromat, clearly humoring you. Then he pulls you into him with an arm around your shoulder.

Marvus: thot this would be more fun tho

Marvus: wat do you think of this

He pulls down some purple zebra print on a shimmery, silky fabric. You run the corner between your fingers and sigh indulgently. It runs, smooth and weightless under your skin like air made tangible.

MSPAR: I've never felt anything like this.

You give him a sly glance, still unsure of the game you’re playing. Without a strategy, you opt for hamming up some honesty.

MSPAR: I can almost feel my stress melting away at the touch.

MSPAR: My life is better now, with that single brush of fabric through my fingers.

You laugh together.

Marvus: nah it ain't that serious troll Epicurus LOL !!

Marvus: got sum jammiez made from this stuff

Marvus: & I still wake up the same motherfxxin Marvus

Picture Marvus in purple zebra print pajamas.

Heh. Cute.

As Marvus leads you through the store, conspicuously lingering in the purples-and-pinks section, you realize that you have no idea what you're doing here.

MSPAR: What are we doing here, exactly?

Marvus: ;o)

That wink doesn't bode well.

Marvus hums as he sorts through scrolls of patterned fabric. With the crescendo, he rips a swatch from an umbrella and ginkgo leaf fabric. For your part, you get to experience an arrhythmia in real-time.

Marvus: what about this one ?

He holds the swatch up to your jaw, indicating that you should hold it there. Taking a step back, he studies you, finger resting thoughtfully over his mouth.

Marvus: nah dat ain't it dogg

Figure out what _is_ it.

Best way to figure anything out with Marvus is to ask him directly.

MSPAR: What are you looking for?

Marvus: idk LOL

Marvus: guess we'll figure shizz out when the time's rite

...Then again, when has Marvus been the direct type?

MSPAR: Can I help somehow?

Marvus: just need you to get in the groove my man

Marvus: gotta feel it with me

Feel it with him.

The only thing you’re feeling is claustrophobic. God, the purples-and-pinks section is massive and overbearing.

Marvus pulls a few more swatches of fabric your way, pressing them to your arms and your cheeks and your fingers. Each time is met with a sigh or a glance away. Indifference hurts coming from him. You are, to put it lightly, way out of your element. If "element" were a vehicle, you just jumped out the door at seventy miles per hour and rolled down the highway.

With that thought, it all hits you, sudden and violent like a bar fight. Feeling out of your element is most likely what Marvus is fighting against. That must be the game he's playing, why he's brought you here.

Feel it with him... for real.

It takes some time to get into the groove. Nothing about this whole scene is anything within your realm of experience. But wanting it is enough to get you to try.

You shift your perspective. Who says this can't be a part of your world? You're here right now, aren't you? With shaking hand, you reach out...

Pull out a swatch of shimmery fabric.

Tentatively, you rub the fabric between your fingers. You aren't as bold as Marvus, grabbing swatches all willy nilly and ripping them apart like some kind of sexy, painted savage.

There's something about this fabric that speaks to you. Perhaps it's because it's unspeakably tacky- purple fabric patterned with gold cheetah spots- or perhaps it's because it's fun and daring and it reminds you of Marvus.

You hold the fabric up to Marvus as he abandons some striped fabric.

Marvus: you like that babe ?

You nod.

Marvus snaps his fingers.

The world spins around you.

For a moment, you're lost in a whirlwind of color. Your bearings come back to you by degrees; you're shuffled to a stage. A reflection of your bewildered face stares back at you. Marvus is giving orders to people that move with fast, precise movements.

MSPAR: What, exactly, the hell is going on?

Get scolded.

Marvus pulls back to study you, one hand on his chin and the other leaning his weight over his cane sword.

As you turn to look at him, someone grabs you by the arm and holds you still. When you turn back to glare at them, you startle to realize that a team of trolls is taking your measurements.

Marvus: artists at work babe

Marvus: let us do our thang ;op

Point out that Marvus is not doing a "thang" at all.

Marvus: sum one's gotta make the eXXXecutive decisions LOL

He waves his hand and the team of trolls gets to work in earnest. You're pulled and coddled and wrapped in fabric until you're dizzy. Marvus drapes fabric over you a few times, tugs at hems, and generally gets his hands on you.

By the time the storm has weathered, Marvus is gone.

Marvus's team of trolls, too, have long since filed out. Alone on the stage, you finally get a moment to breathe.

What you're wearing would put Lisa Frank to shame.

Wow, Marvus really put his artists to work on this one; it's indescribable. You twist and turn in the mirror, admiring the fit and the cut and all around everything. Though the pattern is more circus than stylish, the fabric is luxurious. And you notice that the lining of your jacket is the same purple and gold cheetah print that you picked out earlier. Fuck what Marvus said; you are definitely a different person in this.

What the hell kind of date is he taking you on that requires this sort of dress code?

Look for Marvus.

There's no need because as the thought enters your head, he emerges from behind some curtains.

Wow.

He seems to have taken your preferences to heart. A gold and black vest hugs close to his waist over a button-down shirt -- buttoned scandalously low -- in the same cheetah print from before. Gold chains decorate his decolletage- one boldly announcing him as "suga"- yet he manages to make it look subtle.

And all the while, he manages to pull it off. Suddenly, you're thinking your own look is less Lisa Frank and more Marvus Xoloto.

Ask what you're all dressed up for.

Marvus: wat ?

Marvus: we need an occasion now ?

Marvus: thot this wuz a date ?

Marvus: i say looking this good is itz own occasion ;o)

The two of you walk and talk your way out of the storefront. Was that the whole date? No fucking way, not on your watch.

Marvus does have a point: you look good. You look _damn_ good. There's no way you're done with him.

Suddenly, you understand the game you’re playing. Now to plan your next move...

Trust Marvus to show you a good time.

Make a good time yourself.

Marvus leads you through downtown with a protective hand at your back. He walks through crowds, at ease, like a hand trailing through turbulent water. You do your part to follow in his wake. It's all you can do to look like you belong by his side.

The immaculate white marble pillars slowly make way for clown town. As subtle as blue fades to purple, the landscape changes, too. Graffiti marks your descent from society to spectacle. Marvus points out the last bits and pieces of marble.

Marvus: check it

Marvus: shizz is deep when u rly think about it

Marvus: u ever think abt how every caste got they own lil culture 2 up and fxxking conform to ?

Marvus: all crumblez the closer you get to tha big top

Marvus: clowns really do be subjugated into CRUSHING IT !!

With this, he kicks a can of spray paint to a group of clowns menacing under a bridge.

Marvus: wats up homies :o)

Witness him.

Marvus approaches this gaggle of minacious mummers with the air of someone not dressed to the nines in an expensive suit. Wasn't he just talking about the pressure to conform to caste culture?

And yet... you can see it. Even through their casual clothes and face coverings, the clowns against the wall have an undeniable presence that you see mirrored in Marvus. They slap hands and clasp him on the shoulder and you realize: you will never have this on Alternia. No easy camaraderie, no found family tropes and high fives under an interstate, covered in spray paint and bloodstains.

Yet just as this thought hits you, Marvus gestures back to you, turning with a smile meant for your eyes only. The clowns wave and hoot and honk and holler at you.

Maybe it's not so bad here.

Marvus shakes the can of spray paint before tagging his face paint on the wall behind you. The clowns jostle him as he works, but in the end, his lines are neat and true.

When he passes the can to you, it's easy to make a little circle-headed symbol of yourself, mouth agape like a real connoisseur of dumbassery.

Marvus: hell yeah

Marvus: hungry ?

Cliche as it may be, your stomach answers for you.

Marvus: bout time we bounced

Marvus: u kno wat they say

Marvus: mo' clowns, mo' problems

Nod sagely.

Very true. The two of you wave your goodbyes as Marvus leads you up the embankment beside the bridge.

Marvus: hope u got a strong stomach LOL

You're about to ask why before he points to the all-staring gaze of the heiress of herself. For all of her faults, you have to give her some credit: she knows how to pick her artists. From every corner, her line of sight seems to be laser-focused on you.

Marvus: LOL didnt think u was the fearful type

Marvus: thot you'd be used to this by now, feel me ?

Marvus: everywhere i go

Marvus: all eyes are on me

He leans in with a wink. You roll your eyes.

MSPAR: It's only because _I'm_ with you.

MSPAR: Face it: you're old news now.

Marvus laughs as loud and clear as church bells.

Look up.

The two of you have stopped in front of a luxury hotel, 40 stories high at your best guess. Even stationed on the ground, your stomach flips with an adrenaline rush.

Marvus: got u something got dam EXXXCLUSIVE tonight b ;o)

Uh-oh.

Remember that this thing is rated T.

Oh, thank God.

Marvus leads you through the hotel and to the elevator; it's pretty uneventful. More of the same gold and marble and luxury blah blah. Honestly, it’s getting old. Haven’t trolls ever heard of jewel tones? Pastels?

The elevator is tight; not that you're surprised. Marvus looks down at you, brow quirked. You can feel the subtle heat of his body radiating towards you and pulling you in.

As you ascend the heights, gravity pools in your gut. It's almost indistinguishable from the swoop low in your belly that spending time with Marvus brings out in you.

You're a little nervous.

Get off at the top floor.

As you step out of the elevator, mist pools at your ankles. It's hard to tell what exactly this room is for- private sauna? Heated pool?

But as Marvus steps into the room, it doesn’t matter what purpose it originally served. His figure disturbs the mist and he becomes incorporeal. The stars shine bright through panes of glass. Light glints from his jewelry and the gold print of his shirt.

A figure cut from starlight, shaded in lavender and blue.

If this is what you came here to see? Worth it.

Marvus doesn't seem to pay much mind to it, walking to the east side and kicking in the glass panes of the sidewall.

Oh God, he's climbing through.

Face your fear of heights.

Property damage is fair game, but Marvus damage is where you draw the line. Scraping him off of the pavement really wasn't a part of your plans for tonight. You scramble out of the window in a haste only to be met with his firm grip around your bicep.

Marvus: careful bud we're high af LOL

Marvus: need u 2 stay frosty

Marvus: last parts tha hardest, just saying

With this, he starts climbing a ladder to the rooftop proper. Jesus fucking christ.

Come to terms with your own mortality.

You place your first, shaking hand to the wrought iron. The metal snags at your skin, so cold that you worry about sticking. Meanwhile, Marvus climbs above you with the grace and strength of a man who knows what awaits him after death.

If only your own fate was so certain.

MSPAR: Marvus I just want to tell you...

Marvus: :o?

MSPAR: If I die up here....

MSPAR: It's been real.

Marvus: LOL !!

Marvus: you won't be dying _up here_ tho

Marvus: death happens when you splat down on the wicked pavement

Marvus: & i ain’t the kind of clown what climbs the grief trapeze w/out a safety net ;o)

You don't know if he means that literally, but it does help soothe the nerves somewhat.

Adrenaline shifts to peace. The wind picks up, stirring your clothes around your body and carding through your hair. Distantly, the sounds of traffic pick up.

Here, where death is roughly 400 feet below you, you finally feel alive.

Reach the top.

Okay actually, fuck that. Once you're up and over, Marvus's hand steady in yours to pull you up, you let out all of your breath at once.

Mortality and the awareness of your own life and death can fuck right off. Comfort... Now that's the good shit.

As you catch your breath, Marvus stands up beside you and brings out a little bell from within his pocket. He walks to the edge and rings it just as you stand. Your knees are still shaking. Adrenaline's one hell of a drug.

Marvus turns and watches you stumble around like a newborn deer. He smiles, as warm and wide as he's ever smiled, and offers you his hand.

Take his hand.

Hand in hand, the two of you walk up to the edge, Marvus to your left and a maze of flower boxes below you. It's a disorienting kind of romance, fragmented and hard to get the full picture in one pass.

It suits Marvus tremendously.

Marvus: never been good at being alone

Marvus: hope you don't mind an audience ;o)

You look up.

Meet the heiress's gaze.

Fuck, it's the same billboard of the heiress from before. Her gaze seems ridiculous here where you're at her height.

MSPAR: Can't say I'm a big fan of hers.

Marvus: word

After a few moments of comfortable silence- you guess that Marvus is giving you time to relax after the adrenaline rush- a braided gold cord appears in Marvus's lap.

Marvus: still hungry ?

He passes you the cord.

Pull.

You pull the slack, expecting resistance and finding none. Ah, wait, there it is. Marvus takes note of your straining and decides to help you along. His movements are dainty, precise. He reminds you everything of a clown pulling kerchiefs out of a hat.

At the end of the rope is a golden platter, snugly wrapped in the rope.

Marvus: now u didn't hear this from me

Marvus: but a lil improvising is what gets me fxxking going

Marvus: stilllll

Marvus: i ain't had much notice for this one lol

He opens the tray to reveal a charcuterie platter.

And two plastic cups of wine.

Get crunk.

You go absolutely ham on some cheeses and fancy grapes and shit. There are little sandwiches, too, that are promptly disassembled and distributed between your respective tastes. Marvus is more reserved next to you, but only slightly.

While you eat, Marvus talks about his day.

Marvus: sorry for taking you on chores w me bud

Marvus: thot i could make it fun for us tho !

MSPAR: Chores...?

Marvus: yea :o(

Marvus: got this shizz fxxking FITTED A F for my next interview

Marvus: dam my PR manager knows better than to leave me alone tho

Marvus: i mean can u believe ?

MSPAR: You can't handle twenty minutes by yourself?

Marvus: rather have an audience ;o)

With this, he unseals the cups of wine waiting patiently, untouched, on the tray.

Get drunk.

Marvus: i been waiting for this time all day tho

MSPAR: What, near-death?

Marvus: nah

He takes a sip; you follow suit. The wine is sickly sweet, leaving tingles over your tongue.

Marvus: near sunrise

Marvus: guess thatz p close to what u just said tho, huh ?

Marvus: it's like

Marvus: most of my time belongs to other peeps

Marvus: daaamn lol

Marvus: guess you could say most of my life belongs to other peeps !!

Marvus: but itz aight

Marvus: i signed up for this shizz

Marvus: i waz made to be con-fxxking-SUMED

He turns to look at you with a wink.

Marvus: wicked fxxkin exxxtroverted, natch

Marvus: but i get these times right at the beginning

Marvus: & rite at da end

Marvus: just for me :o)

Get dizzy.

You look over to him.

In the light of a thousand street lamps and advertisements, he leans back on his hands with a sigh. A smile forms, subtle and unbidden, on his face. His face paint dances in the reflected light. He looks like a Van Gogh painting.

You've known this about Marvus but rarely do you get to see it: he's always been thoroughly, consummately him. But now you’re starting to see something deeper. Those times spent on stage exist only to let the world catch a glimpse of what's already there.

And right now he's letting you see him without the spotlight. You brush your fingers over his before his hand unfolds like a flower. His fingers lace with yours, all-consuming.

You kiss him once, on the corner of his mouth. He smiles, ripping the skin off of a grape with his teeth. He spits the seeds at the heiress.

He misses by a longshot.

**GOOD END**

Before Marvus can get distracted, you haul ass forward. Marvus follows in your wake.

Look around.

Theoretically, there should be plenty to do on this side of town. All you have to do is find it.

And therein lies the difficulty. What the hell does Marvus do in his free time? You only really know him to eat, smoke, joke, and sleep, but surely that's not all he does. Post-tour, attention-seeking Marvus is a much different beast than the man walking in pace with you.

Look to Marvus for inspiration.

No. Your show now.

You take a quick glance around the city instead. Rising around you are tall, glass buildings that sparkle in the lights of the city. Trolls hustle and bustle past you, mostly blue bloods in suits. This must be the business district, then.

After a few minutes of walking, Marvus interrupts you.

Marvus: u kno where your headed dogg ?

MSPAR: Not yet!

Marvus: aight bet

He stuffs his hands in his pockets as he shoots you a sly grin.

Marvus: wellll just saying

Marvus: maybe we take a left up on tha corner up there ;o)

He nods his horns to a street light, decorated with ribbons and bells like a maypole.

Head towards clown town.

God, anything to get out of the business district.

Turning into clown town is a stark contrast to the business district. At once, the atmosphere changes. All of the neat, straight lines turn to circus tents and waving fabrics. You pass by a bridge and some crumbling pillars covered in colorful graffiti. Marvus kicks an empty spray paint can that hisses red paint over his shoes in displeasure.

Marvus: aw fxxk lol

MSPAR: Troll Louboutin is rolling in his grave.

Marvus: troll louboutin wishes he had half the buldj rods that i gottz

Marvus lifts his shoe and examines the paint splatter.

Marvus: damn speaking a buldge rodz

Marvus: check out tha pair LOL !

He gestures toward the side of his shoe where the spray paint left a suggestive design. He wraps an arm around you, pulling you into his space and shaking you as you dissolve into giggles together.

As you catch your breath, you catch the spicy, greasy smell of street food.

Follow your nose.

It's not hard; bells jingle and vendors are heckling passers-by, all in good spirit.

You watch chefs of all skill levels tempt you from their stalls. One troll juggles knives and onions and peppers, cutting them up in midair and depositing them onto his grill. With a flourish and a tug of his waistline, he catches his knives in his belt. Another vendor cheers on a pair of clowns, each downing what appears to be a flaming corndog. You point to them

MSPAR: What about that?

Marvus: shieet bud you fr? u crazy?

Marvus: my pr manager would cull me str8

Marvus: u no how sabine is

He pats his throat.

Marvus: first and fxxking foremost:

Marvus: gotta take good care of tha munny maker

Marvus: ya dig ?

Oh, yeah, that makes sense. You elbow him in the ribs.

MSPAR: That why you take such good care of me?

MSPAR: Bet your PR manager loves when we slum it together.

MSPAR: It's good for your image.

Marvus laughs, setting his palm between your shoulders to walk you forward.

Marvus: whos taking care of whom bizznatch !

Marvus: sheet the way i see it...

The two of you stop in front of a food stall selling waffles and ice cream. Marvus orders cotton candy ice cream with chocolate sauce and then indicates that you're sharing it.

Marvus: ...u gotta be risking it all 2 be out here w me

Marvus: keeping me entertained & out of fxxking trouble

Marvus: sabby loves u, my man

You flush, mind racing for a good comeback before you notice Marvus's posture. Back here, with you, he was relaxed, slouching down to your level. But now he's drawing up to his full height, tall and straight like he's on stage.

Someone screams his name- the Marvus part and also the Xoloto part, which does not bode well. Every troll within hearing distance noticeably straightens, scanning around.

Let Marvus handle this

Oh fuck run!!

As soon as you decide to do absolutely nothing about this, you hear a set of slimy footsteps steadily approach.

Zebruh: My friend! ♦️ So good to see you out and about. ♦️

Zebruh: Who knew _you_ were interested in the fine-

Closing your eyes does nothing. He still sees you. Fuck. You open your eyes just in time for him to spot Marvus.

His eyes open, rounder than the twin moons. If you were in any other situation, you might laugh.

Zebruh: Mar- Muh- Mister Xoloto! What an, I mean, I _never_ would have-

Marvus holds a hand up, effectively silencing him.

Marvus: wats good mang :o)

Marvus: gotta be honest i'm in a hurry to gtfo lol

Zebruh: Oh, of course. Why didn't you say so?

Zebruh: Let us bounce, cousin!

Marvus twists his face.

Marvus: oh word ?

Zebruh holds his hand out like he's going to grab Marvus by the bicep, but he stops at the last second to guide you forward instead.

This is it. This is the ultimate price you pay to spend time with Marvus. He owes you like forty showers in his rich-guy luxury spa room as soon as this is all over.

Step into Zebruh's limo

As you hold your hand out to Zebruh to help him into the limo, then to Marvus, Zebruh scowls, folding his hands in front of his chest.

But when Marvus laughs, Zebruh relaxes, clearing his throat as if to cover up the nasty look on his face.

Zebruh: ♦️ I always did appreciate a good sense of humor. ♦️

Marvus: humors all we got whats our fxxking own on dis mortal plane, g

Marvus: i say ya gotta own it else it ownz u first

Marvus: lol turn up !!

Zebruh laughs as if Marvus is joking. Marvus laughs because Zebruh is an idiot. You can't find it in yourself to laugh at all. This situation is becoming tense.

Zebruh: ❤️ Humor... and a refined palette, perhaps? ❤️

With this, Zebruh opens a cabinet and draws out a dusty bottle of faygo. That shit’s so dusty a pawn shop would thumb its nose at it. Gross.

Zebruh: A vintage. I was saving it for ❤️❤️❤️ someone special. ❤️❤️❤️

Marvus: haha word ?

Marvus: & then wat ?

The limo hits a hard bump in the road right as Zebruh twists the cap. Years of built-up gasses, disturbed by the rough ride, explode out of the bottle. Zebruh flails, simultaneously trying to avoid the onslaught of the spray and cap the bottle again. Marvus stands up swinging as if he's under attack. God damn, his swinging has let loose his waffles and ice cream monstrosity from within his coat, and now you're all soaked and particolored. You, for some unknown reason, open your mouth, trying to swallow all of the soda as it sprays, lest Zebruh’s vintage go to waste.

This is so awful. All three of you get soaked. Then, the worst possible thing happens: the limo stalls.

Stalemate.

The three of you start an old fashioned cowboy standoff. Zebruh and Marvus glance at each other before staring at you.

There's no use. There's Marvus "not the physical labor type" Xoloto. There's Zebruh "filthy rich (yet not rich enough to buy a better personality)" Codakk. And there's you, the alien. It's no contest. With a sigh, you stand up and go see how you can fix things. Or, more likely, fuck them up for the better.

You're the last person in the world who wants to draw this out.

Examine the engine or whatever.

You pop the hood. Yep, that sure is smoke. Those sure are... car parts, you think.

You tap the roof the way you see in movies in order to get Zebruh's attention. He pops his head out the window.

MSPAR: Limo's busted.

Zebruh: Not an issue, my little rustling.

Zebruh: ♦️ I have everything you need in the trunk. ♦️

He winks. You sigh.

Take the mile-long trek to the trunk.

Fucking limos. How do you have three friends with limos? Fuck them.

You bitch and grumble your way to the trunk. By now, the faygo and ice cream has dried sticky on your skin. It feels nothing like a good mood.

You. *Sigh.* You pop the god damn trunk.

Instead of a tool kit or jack, like you were expecting, there's a small, blue... thing, with wheels.

You haul it out from the trunk- it's heavy- and the second it hits the ground, it activates like some kind of incredibly fucked up transformer.

Oh god. Hell no. _Hell fucking no._

It's the scooter, now complete with a hitch. Marvus calls you from the window.

Marvus: ay babe u aight ?

You don't respond, riding the scooter right past him. He sticks his head out the window, watching your figure slowly resolve into the distance.

No. Absolutely not. You're going home.

**BAD END**

Well, fuck, if they've already noticed you then there's no need to play it cool. You grab Marvus by the hand and fucking book it.

It's not as difficult as you were imagining; trolls part way as you rush forward. Yes. It's working. You’re a fucking genius.

You glance back to Marvus and realize his eyes are glowing, shifting purple to pink then back again. Oh. That explains the parting of the brain dead sea in front of you.

Turn into an alley.

If there's one thing that every action movie ever has taught you it's this: alleyways are sacred spaces in chase scenes. Though you guess nothing is chasing you, strictly speaking. It's more like Marvus's fame is finally catching up with you.

Well, it's not getting any closer if you have anything to say about it. You duck into a side street, breathing hard.

Marvus: dam i for real dropped the juggling there

Marvus: guess i let my guard down lol !

Marvus: not used to dealing w the live wunz....

Marvus: my bad :o(

Marvus: usually errybody leaves me tf alone when i'm on my errands

MSPAR: Errands...?

MSPAR: You invited me out to run errands with you??

Marvus: ya lol

Marvus: idk guess i thott u had a way abt you

Marvus: you know ?

Marvus: make mundane shizz into sumn exxxciting

Marvus: liek itz all new 2 you

MSPAR: It _is_ all new to me.

The adrenaline catches up with you. Suddenly, it seems so silly. Is this really what Marvus's life is like? Running errands, bored by stardom? You take Marvus in again, in his striped vest and gold cheetah print and a thousand gold accouterments. A smile forms on your face and you do nothing to stop it.

MSPAR: Come on, let's go before they find us.

Find somewhere less populated.

It's not hard; most of the trolls seem to flock to where the food and entertainment are.

You look at your own Lisa Frank inspired style. You look at Marvus. Well, you've got the entertainment with you.

The further you walk through the back streets, the quieter it gets. But you follow your ears anyway. You feel like you're looking for something.

Eventually, you make your way to the residential areas. Distantly, you hear the dulcet tones of a talk show host playing on a tv from a hivestem about 30 feet up. A trio of auspistices argues, the highs and lows almost musical.

Marvus guides you through a little park. And here, you find what you were looking for.

Listen to the music.

A troll plays a record on their phonograph from within their hivestem. They left the window open, and the acoustics are just right for you to get the full experience.

Troll oldies. Trolldies, if you will. Who would have thought?

You stop in front of a fountain, swaying to the music. Marvus sits on a bench in front of you with a big exhale, letting his chin rest on the heel of his hand.

Marvus: u look cute in your lil outfit babe

MSPAR: I feel cute in my lil outfit, Marvus.

MSPAR: Feels good to be looked at. Stay there and look at me some more.

Marvus: dam aight lol !!

You dance in front of the fountain, just really going for it. After the events of tonight, it feels good to just... Wiggle around and let some tension out. Marvus watches you for a few minutes before standing with a stretch to join you.

Dance with Marvus.

You show Marvus the twist, which he seems to love if enthusiasm is anything to go by. He gives you the cabbage patch in return. You running-man your way to certain victory before he vogues at you, turning it into the Carlton at the last minute. God, his moves are immaculate.

But he can't keep it up. As you match him, move for move, his laughter gets harder and harder for him to stifle. Soon, he's doubled down on his knees, laughing so hard that it makes him wheeze.

Marvus: aight bud, come on now

He holds his hand out to you. The song changes to something slower as you step into him. You lean your head on his chest. He leans his chin on your head. He wraps you in his embrace and together, you sway.

Close your eyes.

There's only Marvus in front of you and the sound of the music around you. You take a deep breath of his scent. As usual, Marvus just smells like a vaguely sweaty dude with an undercurrent of something spicy-sweet.

Though this dance is comforting, Marvus kind of sucks at it.

MSPAR: Thought you were a professional dancer or something.

MSPAR: You're pretty bad at this.

Marvus: i ain't slow the beat down for nobody, mang

He wiggles around as he says that.

Marvus: sides

Marvus: u rly gonna say that to the man with all ya weight in his arms ?

MSPAR: Someone had to tell you.

Marvus: go on

Marvus: say it again

Marvus: see what happens

You smile wickedly against his chest.

MSPAR: You're a terrible-

Marvus picks you up and spins you around. You shriek as the solid ground leaves from beneath your feet in a rush. Then you're out of the safety of his embrace. What the hell? Did he throw you??

Land...???

You do, to his credit, land shortly thereafter. With a splash.

In the fucking fountain.

Marvus: whoops lol

Bastard.

Marvus: sorry bud guess that's my fault !

Marvus: if only i'd been a better dancer...

He holds his hand out to you.

Marvus: nunna this woul-

And you pull him in with you.

Marvus: OH FXXK !!!

Catch him.

Unlike you, Marvus is not small enough to land harmlessly in the fountain. Instead, you position yourself to catch him in your arms.

He sits down sputtering.

Marvus: ah shieeet haha

Marvus: guess i deserved dat

Marvus: daaan look at us babe

Marvus: taking a lil dip in private fxxking property

He wiggles his eyebrows at you.

MSPAR: The heiress should be shaking in her boots.

Marvus: dam str8

Marvus: our empire now

He fist-bumps you, the reclines back against the second tier of the fountain.

In moments, he pulls something from within his vest. God, you can't believe his ice cream and waffles survived that. He breaks off little pieces of his waffle, dipping it in the now melted ice cream so meticulously that you can't help but laugh.

You rip off your own piece. It's pretty soggy, but then again so are you.

The two of you eat in comfortable silence- well, near silence, the music continues to play. You dip your finger in the massacre of your snack and flick some of the pink and blue ice cream at him. He jerks his head but doesn't look at you, so you do it again.

Marvus: messing w my brand ?

MSPAR: Driving the Xoloto brand name to ruins with the flick of my fingers.

MSPAR: Hope you know a good legislacerator because your ass is mine.

Marvus: i know the best, babe

Marvus: & i kno i dont need'em

With this, he sticks his hand into the box and flings the remains at you. Oh, it's on.

Your food fight devolves into a splash fight before you're both laughing at decibels higher than you thought possible. Marvus presses the now empty box on your head and you wear your new hat with pride, sticking your tongue out at him. You're covered in ice cream and soaked and sodden besides, but who cares. So is Marvus.

As your laughter dies down, Marvus wipes away a line of goop from your cheek- god only knows what it is- staring down at you with intent. He lets his thumb trace your cheek before outlining your jaw, a thoughtful look on his face. He's still sitting in your lap.

Marvus: dam

Marvus: i always kno imma get in some shizz when i get with u

Marvus: no matter wat it is

Marvus: you got sumn real special like dat

Marvus: thats wats up !

He draws you in with a hand around your waist. And he kisses you once, sweetly, on the tip of your nose.

**GOOD END**


End file.
